There is a Solution...and I’m Not It

The 9th Step Promises

1. If we are painstaking about this phase of our development, we will be amazed before we are half way through.

2. We are going to know a new freedom and a new happiness.

3. We will not regret the past nor wish to shut the door on it.

4. We will comprehend the word serenity and we will know peace.

5. No matter how far down the scale we have gone, we will see how our experience can benefit others.

6. That feeling of uselessness and self-pity will disappear.

7. We will lose interest in selfish things and gain interest in our fellows.

8. Self-seeking will slip away.

9. Our whole attitude and outlook upon life will change.

10. Fear of people and of economic insecurity will leave us.

11. We will intuitively know how to handle situations which used to baffle us.

12. We will suddenly realize that God is doing for us what we could not do for ourselves

Are these extravagant promises? We think not. They are being fulfilled among us - sometimes quickly, sometimes slowly. They will always materialize if we work for them.

Alcoholics Anonymous p83-84

The reason a recovering alcoholic isn’t ready to pursue a relationship - and shouldn’t place one’s self in a position where that ball is set rolling (flirting, dating, sexting, sex, etc) - is because it takes long, hard work to be restored to sanity. If you’re in a relationship already when entering recovery, your hope is that you can recover well enough to save it, or to be okay in it. But the relationship lasting after recovery is still not always the case, nor should it be. This is where having a good sponsor is important; we sick alcoholics and addicts don’t always know what’s best for us, and we can get ourselves into a whole lot of trouble when we do things our own way. The 12-steps-with-a-sponsor-approach isn’t the only way to recovery, but if we do go this route and work closely with a recovered human being with much more experience - who has been restored to sanity through working the steps - more is revealed to us. We are better equipped to make sane decisions, and less apt to hurt others and ourselves. 

I finally have a sponsor whom I call and to whom I talk (and as importantly, to whom I listen) every single day - and I actually want to do this. I believe that the words that come out of her mouth are true, which is important. And I’m actually being honest with her about my thoughts, feelings and actions - more honest than I’ve ever been. It feels hard as hell. My ego kicks and screams as it tries to claw and fight its way back to the surface to drag me under - but I know that rigorous honesty with another human being IS the first step in recovery. I’m SO SICK of my own insanity and the suffering it brings myself and others that I’m shining the brightest light I can on this bitch, so we can both look at its ugliness and see it for what it really is. The ego can only survive in darkness. 

Me? I’d rather dwell in the Sunlight of the Spirit, and enjoy the peace of those promises up there.

So, to get there - to recover, to be restored to sanity - I have to stop doing things my way. If there’s one thing I learned from re-reading my blog posts from 7 to 4 years ago, it’s that, yes, I am insane, and to say that I hurt people - some very deeply - is an understatement. And it’s my nasty little ego that not only prevents me from admitting my shortcomings to another human being, but also tries to stop me from following the direction of someone more sane than I. It can’t handle the idea that someone else might have the answer. It fights me being told what to do. 

Thankfully, when my now-sponsor (I’ll call her Tasha) makes suggestions, she only suggests to follow what’s in the book of Alcoholics Anonymous, which has helped millions of alcoholics already. This program of awareness is more powerful than my ego. I don’t even have to call it the hand of God - but I choose to. Tasha couples that with her own experience, strength and hope - and I can take it or leave it - but I’m choosing to take it.

Without a good sponsor, recovery doesn’t work for me. Margaret wasn’t even the best of sponsors, in hindsight, though I thought so at the time, placing her on the highest pedestal. Boy, did she fall hard. After her suicide, I completely stopped trusting any one in the program at all. I stopped recovering, soon after I had started. I kept pursuing relationships when I wasn’t sane - until I found a guy who was also crazy enough to stay with me. 

It lasted a little over four years. After fighting it in the beginning, I conceded and settled into it quite comfortably. Here was everything I ever wanted. He was a hard-working chef, we bought a house, he could help me raise my son, we had a daughter, his son (my son’s age) came to live with us, I continued my work with adults and children with disabilities until I started a photography business, we were engaged to be married, and I was photographing Love for a living. I felt like I had “made it”.

But I was still spiritually sick. I resorted to smoking weed, then vaping THC, addictively, to deal with the fact that on the outside, life looked amazing, but on the inside, I was suffering. Parenting was overwhelming. I had no clear view of my finances and didn’t know what I was doing in my business. I had too much work and too little money. I was asking - forcing - Bernard to watch the kids and clean and cook for me 60-70 hours a week so I could work any time he wasn’t working, on his days off, and late into every single night, at my computer, in addition to shooting weddings and sessions. I made no time for him, and also resented him for everything. He just wouldn’t do everything I wanted, and he did things I didn’t want. I had no peace, and I was neglecting everyone, drowning in a sewer of my own design. There was no God-consciousness, nor real consciousness of any kind.

When my then-sponsor (who never worked the steps with me, because I told her I had worked them already - plus I never followed her suggestions) - moved away, the search was on for real recovery. At this point, I was hoping to use the steps to save my relationship and my business, and to be the best mom I could be. I knew I was making a mess of things, but I was powerless on my own to stop it. I was even willing to quit smoking weed / THC and be sober again for real.

But, of course, I couldn’t do that on my own. I tried on my own, over and over, and failed every time. So, I went to Narcotics Anonymous, and a sponsor there helped me to quit smoking weed with a very thorough and intensive step 1. My sobriety date - clean and sober - is now April 6, 2019. 

As I embarked on step 2, I decided that, since AA was the program that started it all for me - I still haven’t had a drink in over 8 years - I wanted to go back to basics. I knew AA could restore me to sanity, because, as I began the process there before, I could feel it. I picked the oldest old-timer in the room at my home group, with 37 years of continuous sobriety, and asked her to take me through the remaining steps.

But, she got sick with pneumonia a couple weeks later, and we never had the chance to do the work before she was in the hospital, and of course, unavailable. I prayed for her recovery and I wanted to wait for her - but I needed help, now. So, I got a new sponsor. But her husband had a severe stroke while he was out on the coast on a job. She went out to the hospital and then the recovery facility to be with him, where they still are to this day. She got me through steps 2 and 3 over the phone, but she wanted to do them with me “officially” in person before having me move on to step 4, and we just never got the chance.

Months went by, and I continued to be a terrorist at home. Stagnant in the steps, I was powerless to change. I decided to just start step 4 on my own. It almost saved my relationship when he found my notebook and my personal moral inventory, where I admitted my resentments, and my selfishness, my dishonesty, and my fears, followed by my prayers asking God to remove these defects, show me what He would have me be, and give me the strength to be it. 

But the required change in me never occurred without taking steps 5-12. I was stuck repeating the same things over and over. The relationship did finally end; he had had enough. Never mind whatever his own character defects were - mine were glaring. I know the relationship wasn’t good for either of us from the beginning, in truth, but once we were in it...we were “in it to win it,” I had hoped. I had made the investment . . . but I lost it all.

Homeless with two kids two days before Christmas, with my sponsor still out of town, I started the search again. I found an old-timer who was willing to hear my inventory and do step 5 with me. I showed up at her house on the appointed day and time. I was desperate. But she didn’t answer the door, or the phone, after multiple attempts. 

A few days later, she texted me and told me she had had the flu, with no offer to reschedule. Screw that, I thought. I went ahead and did my 5th step with a friend, and 6 and 7 on my own. I shared my shortcomings, I was willing to have God take them away, and I asked Him to. But as I looked at step 8, I knew I needed to do this with a sponsor. Made a list of all persons we had harmed, and became willing to make amends to them all. How can I trust myself to be thorough on my own? How do I know that I will take step 9 correctly, where the promises begin to come true? Made direct amends to such people wherever possible, except when to do so would injure them or others. How do I know I won’t still hurt people with my “amends”. I went to five AA meetings the next day, and I knew that, no - I can’t do this alone.

I decided to keep searching. On January 24, 2020, Tasha was the speaker at the local Friday night meeting. She seemed so familiar. Where did I know her from?

I related to nearly everything she shared. At the end of the meeting, I ran out to my car to get my big book. There it was, her name and number on the last blank page, along with the date and the name of the meeting where I’d met her. I rarely write people’s names and numbers in my big book. But I had met her a year prior at another meeting, down the mountain, where, after hearing her speak for only 3-5 minutes, I knew I wanted what she had: her awareness, sanity. She spoke recovery, truth. 

I had called her one time, and we talked about Thich Naht Hanh, Eckhart Tolle, and recovery. I later found out from my then-sponsor Shasta that Tasha was sponsoring Shasta’s husband Josh, and Tasha’s partner Destiny was Shasta’s sponsor. Serendipity!

I went back into the meeting room after seeing her name and number in my big book and showed it to her, and I asked her, “Is this you?”

“No....wait...yes...but that’s not how you spell my name.” She helped me fix it. I told her what I had been dealing with, that Shasta moved away and we never went through the steps, and that I kept getting sponsors with whom I didn’t get to go through the steps, but that that’s all I want - to take the steps with a sponsor and recover - and I could see in her eyes that she knew what I was going to ask before I did, and she said yes after I had only started, “Would you...”.

Call it fate, God - Tasha’s sponsoring me now, and I’m so, so grateful to have this opportunity to finally be restored to sanity. I’m not gonna lie - there is a guy I’m obsessed with, as usual - but I know not to trust my own thoughts right now. 

I started the steps over with Tasha because I want to be thorough. I’m back on a new step 4 inventory, looking more fearlessly and honestly than ever.

Because, as Tasha always says, truthfully...

“I’M the problem.”

But, there is a solution. I’m just not it!

Consciousness and the Power of Manifestation

I've started "sort of" podcasting. Nothing high in audio quality. It's humbling to listen to myself. I see why people have a hard time understanding me when I speak. I'm so terrified of opening my mouth that I don't open it all the way when I talk. It has both to do with my bad teeth, and, a warped mind, of course.

Working the steps with a new sponsor, daily, more thoroughly than ever before, is having an effect. A good one. It's very uncomfortable, and at times I don't follow her suggestions, and I pay for it a little, and hurt people a little, but I'm aware enough - now more than ever - to catch it and just keep trying to do the next right thing. Admittedly, blogging isn't the next right thing - I do have more important, more "right" things to do, but this will always be a sort of therapy for me. I like typing . . . it's much faster than writing with my hand. I can't write fast enough by hand, but when I'm typing, I can almost type as fast as I think.

"Stream of consciousness"... it's been called, which is...

'A person's thoughts and conscious reactions to events, perceived as a continuous flow. The term was introduced by William James in his Principles of Psychology (1890).'

Ironically, this is actually the opposite of consciousness, according to Mooji, Eckhart Tolle, Sadhguru, Sri Akarshana, Thich Naht Hanh, etc. (my gurus).

According to my gurus, consciousness is not a person's thoughts or reactions to events, but rather, the awareness of those thoughts, and the deep realization that our thoughts and consequent feelings that inform and trigger our reactions to events come from an egoic state, not consciousness. Consciousness is there in the gap between thoughts - it is not the thoughts themselves, if it can be called an "it". Consciousness is The It, underlying everything, Life, Being, One, Connectedness with the Universe. It's still there when the thoughts and feelings occur, of course, as the Source in which those thoughts and feelings spring. But there's another "thing" - the ego - and the mind-patterns associated with it - that is the unnerving force behind the thoughts and feelings and behavior patterns that subconsciously drive us.

So there's the duality...Consciousness...and the mind. Consciousness is the hope for humanity. Consciousness is peace.

Many people call Consciousness "God." It's makes it translatable, talk-about-able. For those of us struggling with addiction, this is the Power greater than our selves, our egos, our instincts that pulls us back from the very gates of insanity and death. As the book of Alcoholics Anonymous says on page 53, "When we became alcoholics, crushed by a self-imposed crisis we could not postpone or evade, we had to fearlessly face the proposition that either God is everything or else He is nothing. God either is, or He isn't. What was our choice to be?" Will I choose Consciousness, and Life, or will I continue to follow my own mind, my insanity?

The first three steps are, basically: (1) I can't; (2) God can; (3) I think I'll let Him. Him, It, Consciousness, whatever words fail to describe the Is-ness don't matter. Step 4 is where I begin to truly and deeply look at what my mind is doing. It's where I get to begin to understand why and how "I'm" the problem. By observing my thoughts and feelings, I get to get down to causes and conditions. It comes down to ego, behavior patterns, instincts. My security, identity, ambitions, pocketbook, self-esteem, and pride are threatened, causing my fear, dishonesty, selfishness, self-seeking, and resentment . . . causing my reactions that create wreckage and havoc in my life.

I'm an alcoholic, cannabis addict, love addict, anything-that-relieves-my-crazy-thoughts-and-feelings addict - I'm bodily and mentally powerless over these things, and I need something greater than myself to restore me to sanity. It doesn't really matter what I call it . . . as long as it isn't "me".

So from here, admitting my defects to another human being, and to God, then I become willing to have these defects removed, and by asking God to remove them and by making amends for harms done do I get to build the arch through which I walk to freedom. I go out to repair the damage done by my unconscious self-will run-riot and accept a new way of living. I'm willing to do things not "my way". I'm willing to not do things "my way." I'm willing to do the next "right" thing, and not do the next "wrong" thing . . . the thing that will hurt someone, throw me into resentment or self-pity, and get me drunk, high and/or dead.

So I need to hurry up and finish this blog post. I have a meeting to go to and more work to do for my clients. But before I go, I'll just share one more thing.

The power of manifestation is REAL.

I thought, after my recent 4-year relationship - the one that I thought was the relationship to end all relationships (and for the time, it was) - that it would be easy to be single again and not get involved with any new men, since I'm working the steps with a truly wonderful sponsor. But, as I wrote in my last post - self-knowledge is the beginning, but it's not the solution.

There is a Power greater than myself at work. I asked It to get me into my studio apartment after the break-up, making $2,000 in one day. Thank you, Master Sri.

But, I've also manifested four men, one after another. I have to laugh at this: I had prayed to "someday" meet a "spiritual guy" . . . I told God that I didn't care if he was older, in his forties or fifties, even. The law of attraction and power of manifestation works so well, of course, that two men, over 50, and spiritual, showed up in my life within days. At the same time, I was reminiscing about one of the guys on my list, "The Satellite Communications Engineer". I opened up Instagram a few days later, and of course, there was a message from him. After that, I told God that I could be with a guy in a wheelchair - maybe that would be good for me. Today, I got a message from a guy in a wheelchair, whom I don't know, have never met, and whom I didn't know existed when I said that to God.

Master Sri Akarshana talks about the importance - as does the end of the 4th step sex inventory in the Big Book - about being very specific about our ideal, whatever it is that we want. Because the Universe will give us what we want.

Right now, I really just want to recover and be restored to sanity. You hear me, God? Okay, cool. Let's just do that.

Self-Knowledge Avails Nothing

Well, hello there!

Let's just catch up, shall we? 

I'm not sure what I’m doing with this blog now. I know I’ve gotten way off track. I mean...I was completely insane, really, from the beginning. I was so obsessed with meeting "him," and I thought writing about it would help, would stop me, from acting out on my sex and love addiction. 

It never did. As recovered alcoholics and addicts know, self-knowledge, and half-measures, avail us nothing. "[...T]he actual or potential alcoholic, with hardly an exception, will be absolutely unable to stop drinking on the basis of self-knowledge," (Alcoholics Anonymous, 39). Unable to stop drinking, stop pursuing men, stop smoking weed, stop mismanaging money, stop being resentful at him for drinking - I have as many addictions as there are weekdays (and actually more, as it turns out).

Despite not having drank since my first AA meeting on January 19, 2012 - that's my one win - I definitely kept acting out those other addictions. Do I have to go to a different 12-step program for every single one to achieve complete sobriety / sanity? I wonder.

Well, on April 6, 2019, I decided that I was tired of being powerless over weed, and I was able to finally quit with the help of a sponsor in Narcotics Anonymous. I'm now over 9 months clean - it was impossible to do on my own.

And on December 23, 2019, I finally called the cops on "Bernard," and the relationship ended for real. Lots to catch up on - I took him hostage and he moved in with me in August 2015, we visited my sister in Northern CA over Christmas Break and he suggested we just stay, my son Lucas' dad died January 22, 2016, we were homeless for a long time in motel-to-motel until we found a crappy place to rent, we bought a house with my late husband's life insurance, his son came to live with us, we had another kid, I got fired, I started a photography business (and a new addiction), and his drinking got worse (than it all ready was when I was chasing him down at bars trying to make him mine).

That night, on December 23, I had finally decided it was insane to let him keep getting away with taking my car without asking, with no driver's license (multiple DUI's), with no cell phone (would never pay his bill), with our almost 3 year-old daughter in the car (I was working the steps again, and I really wanted to become sane this time). We had all ready been fighting every day and breaking up like every week. That night, he was gone for two hours before I knew he had left (I was downstairs working - my new escape from reality). I thought about calling the police before he got home, but then he showed up, and he started screaming when I set the boundary. Olivia started crying; he was screaming and throwing things. rampaging, yelling that he was done with me, and I needed to leave "his" house right now (the house I bought with Lucas' dad's life insurance - at least, the $20,000 down - but put in Bernard's name, since his credit was better than mine after I got us both out of debt with said life insurance money). I took her downstairs, locked the bedroom door, and went into the walk-in closet in the bathroom, and locked the bathroom door, too.

Olivia told me she was scared, so that was it. I decided to just do it. I was terrified of doing it, but I did it - I dialed 9-1-1. When the police arrived, Bernard was actually screaming outside by the street, so they were able to arrest him for "public" intoxication. They told me he would only be in the drunk tank for 6-12 hours, so since the house was in his name, despite us living there for over three years, I should get what I needed, and get out before he gets out.

It has not been an easy 26 days since then, of course. After staying with my sister (who was drinking all day around the holidays, and I had to get out), a friend, a stranger, and a friend of a friend, I'm now finally in a studio apartment with my two kids (Lucas is now 10; Olivia turns 3 in a little over a week).

There's more I'd like to write, but I'm going to head out and go to an AA meeting that starts in 15 minutes after microwaving Lucas a quesadilla. The Cup O' Noodles didn't quite fill him up. Olivia is with dad for the night. We're meeting with CPS next week to come up with a safety plan, but she'll be okay for tonight, any way.

To be continued...

Angels and Demons

My sister Nagela (I actually meant to write "Angela," but the typo is strangely fitting) and her fiancé Chester today sat me down for a talking-to. They do this with the best of intentions, each of them with their third beer in hand with many more to follow. The line of questions and comments was as follows:

"So you've been supporting Bernard all this time?"

"And you're going to keep supporting him when he comes up here with no job?"

"So why is it that he has no job and no money?"

"So this is his second DUI?"

"Do you know what happens when he gets a third?"

"And you're okay with that?"

"You need to make better decisions for yourself and your son."

"You have an opportunity here with Lucas' dad's life insurance to really turn your life around and do something good for you and your son."

"How do you feel about Ron's death? You know your sister Angela is here to talk with you. I haven't seen you talk to her about how it makes you feel. How does it make you feel?"

"You should get a financial advisor."

"You should work hard and get a good job so you don't even have to touch that money."

"You could find a good man up here, who works hard, who would provide for you and Lucas, who doesn't get himself into this kind of trouble."

"A real man provides for his family."

"If Bernard works the way you say he does, you're hardly ever gonna see him anyway."

"What about your meetings and sponsors and stuff actually helps you?"

"Are you going to find a place by the time Bernard gets up here?"

"You've been with him what, five months? And you think that's love? Do you know how many times we've heard this before?"

"Do you see how fast it's moving?"

There was more, but my stomach hurts. I'm pretty sure I undercooked the chicken that I put into the enchiladas before I rushed off to the meeting to meet with my sponsor and this cool old timer named Rufus. Total book-thumper, guru-type. The first meeting I saw him at up here, he gave me my now-sponsor's number and made me text her and ask her to be my sponsor right in front of him. I'm glad I listened. I have hope this time around that I'll actually get through all 12 steps. I didn't before and didn't make it. Didn't stay sober. Smoked weed over my resentment against Bernard.

Now, I'm on the 4th step again, on day 13 sober. I've never gone through the steps so quickly. But I'm doing it with the desperation of a drowning woman grabbing onto a life-preserver.

As far as all this other stuff, I have faith that God will work it out as I draw close to Him and begin to perform His work. That's how it works.

The Answer to the Previous Post's Title Question: A Big, Fat, "NO"

It might have been a whole two weeks before I begged him to forgive me and come back.

I made the decision to forgive him for whatever he did or didn't do, and decided I wanted to just love him.

Meanwhile, I had relapsed with Bernard on weed in October.

There're a lot of meanwhiles....

1. My sponsor dropped me because she said I was fucking my life up, and my best friend decided to stop talking to me for the same reason.

2. Bernard quit at the restaurant because the restauranteur wasn't respecting him.

3. Bernard, my son, and I went to Northern California to my sister's for a vacation.

4. We decided to stay.

5. I quit the restaurant via text.

6. We realized we should at least go back to clear out the apartment.

7. I came back up to my sister's (what fake name did I give her? Until I go back and figure it out, we'll call her Angela) with my son Lucas (is that the fake name I gave him?) so he could start school when vacation was over.

8. Bernard stayed behind to finish packing up and selling the entire contents of my apartment for a total of $300.

9. Bernard went to court twice to try and transfer his DUI case to Nor-Cal but was unsuccessful.

10. I haven't seen Bernard in about a month; he's serving this weekend and next weekend in jail, and then he can come up, maybe.

11. Lucas' died dad a week ago today.

12. I don't have a job or a place of my own to live; I had gotten two jobs that turned out to be Craigslist scams, since apparently I didn't learn my lesson the first time I got screwed on Craigslist.

13. My sister and fiancé are annoyed with me because they think I'm fucking my life up.

14. I'm fucking my life up.

15. I'm now 13 days clean and sober again and have a new sponsor up here and have started over on the steps.

16. I'm applying to be a cook/dishwasher at an assisted living facility if I can get my depressed ass out of this trailer bed. 

Yeah. Here I go.

Done with the Executive Chef - So Can I REALLY Be Done with Men for Awhile?

A lot of people tell me they're worried about me. My sponsor in alcohol recovery doesn't; she doesn't buy into the drama. She's also a mindfulness practitioner, highly spiritual, and extremely intelligent, having almost completed a Master's degree in Psychology with an emphasis on Borderline Personality Disorder.

Other people though, they get scared I'll actually kill myself. I'll tell you right now; that's never gonna happen. I've had periods where I've legitimately wanted to cease to exist more than anything on Earth, but God didn't take me, presumably because I have a six year-old son left to half-raise. His dad is dying of congestive heart failure, so pretty soon that responsibility will fall fully on me.

But yeah, I need to stay away from guys. It's the common theme of the past over-four years since I left my husband of ten years (my son's dad). (We were together ten years and only married for the last three of those, but fuck technicalities.)

(And actually, we're still married. He does have life insurance, so I'm glad I never pushed the divorce through...)

Anyway, I just got out of yet another relationship, this time with my boss. Did I really fall in love wth him? I don't know. Am I capable of loving anyone, even myself? I don't know. Did I take his power away because he was a colossal dick at work and I had to neutralize him somehow? Damn right.

But did he try to cheat on me twice to my knowledge, stay a night in jail for a DUI, drink heavily every night, sneak around outside of work and not tell me where he was going or what he was doing, and make up stories and lies that he couldn't even keep straight? Yeah. Did he want to live in my apartment rent-and-bill-free so he could support his drinking and his smoking weed? Yeah. Did he offer my six year-old son a beer as well as provide a TERRIBLE human example to a kid who's like a sponge and started imitating him, cussing, while also telling me, "Mom, I don't like Bernard. Break up with him. I don't trust him"? Fuck, yes.

So I finally did it. I had tried a few times before; back in October when I found out about the cheating attempts through text messages on his phone between him and one of the waitresses at work, and he was pissed at me for going through his phone but he had all ready been lying to me (and it takes one to know one), I said, "You know, if you're gonna try to cheat on someone you should probably lock your phone." We had a big fight which culminated in our first "I love you"s and we didn't break up - in fact I thought it brought us closer.

But then recently he has been exhibiting the same behavior - lying about where he is outside of work (we work together but don't have the same schedule) - and I found out he had locked his phone, because one night when he was drunk he was trying to get into it, and couldn't remember his own damn password. That, and he and his buddies were talking about the other day that he hung out with them, "But don't tell Adora!" Bernard said. He didn't know I heard.

So I was just finally done.

Okay, lesson learned this time? Who fucking knows. I had been keeping the piercing fetish guy updated throughout my relationship, so when he found out about my breakup, he wanted to come over last night. I forget the fictitious name I gave him but you can check the column on the left. Vicente or something, I don't fucking know.

Before he came over, when he asked if he could, I said, "Sure, but I'm not fucking you, and no needles."

Goddamnit. We did fuck.

So what's next? Today I'm going to church, going to go see my son, and tomorrow I have to go back to work at the restaurant, although I don't have to work with Bernard until Tuesday. I informed the restauranteur of the break-up; he was worried I was going to quit and desperately texted me, "You can't quit! I choose you over Bernard! Please don't quit!" Because, again, Executive Chef Bernard is a colossal dick (even though he has a tiny one) and no one can actually stand him. I wanted to see through all of that into his precious human heart - and I did, briefly. Mostly I was swept away by his culinary skills - but you know what? 

I've lost my appetite.

The Memoir Outline: 1-3

1

Family outing to the Oceanside pier. In preparation, Ronnie drinks.

Instead of going to the pier with us as planned, Ronnie has me drop him off at the Headhunter Saloon. I take Lyle down the pier for a milkshake and fries. Sunset, pelicans, surfers. We race and I pretend to lose. He wants to take off his shoes, but I daren’t let him. Too many fishermen. And splinters.

We go back to pick Ronnie up. He’s standing outside the saloon in a circle of people, smoking. He doesn’t want to come with me. I get money out of the ATM and give it to him and tell him to take a cab home.

I take Lyle to Chuck E. Cheese and wait for Ronnie’s call. They’re open late. I play games with Lyle. 20 minutes, Ronnie calls. They kicked me out of the bar, he says. I need you to come get me, they’re calling the cops, he says. I say too bad, and I hang up on him. Lyle and I play some more. He calls a few more times. I don’t answer. He calls again. I answer and I tell him we’re on our way.

I pick him up and take him to Weinerschnitzel to get some food in him. At the drive-through window he says, please don’t be mad, but I kissed two women at the bar.

2

Ronnie’s drunk. He’s banging against Lyle’s bedroom door. Lyle and I are inside. I’m holding Lyle close to me and reading him a book on the other side of the room. Ronnie kicks the door in and breaks the door frame. Get away from us, I scream. I’m calling 9-1-1, I say. He takes my phone. I pick up Lyle and get by Ronnie but he grabs my arm and pushes me and gets in front of us and blocks the front door. You’re not going anywhere, he says. He puts a hole in the wall with his fist. He walks towards us. I take Lyle into my and Ronnie’s bedroom. We’re both crying. Ronnie is banging on our bedroom door.

Ronnie stops banging and yelling. I sing and rock Lyle to sleep. Lyle falls asleep. I open the bedroom door and Ronnie is passed out on the floor in the hallway.

3

Ronnie and I are fighting. He’s drunk. We’re going to the courthouse tomorrow morning to get a divorce, he says.

I get my phone and my keys and my purse.

Fine, I say. Actually, fuck you, I’m leaving right now, I say. I fucking hate you and I hope I never see you again, I say. I go over to pick up Lyle out of his high chair. Lyle’s crying. Ronnie gets to him first and grabs Lyle and picks him up. I try to pry Ronnie’s arms loose. He won’t let go of Lyle. I stomp on Ronnie’s foot. He doesn’t let go. Lyle is crying. I’m crying. Ronnie is yelling. Thank you for the worst ten years of my life, Ronnie says. You’re not taking Lyle, he says. You’re insane, he says. If you’re leaving, then leave, he says.

I leave Ronnie and Lyle.

I go to my car. I’m crying in the drivers’ seat. I turn the ignition and put it in reverse and I start backing up, then I put it in drive and start driving down the apartments’ parking lot.

I pull out on Mission Rd. I don’t know where to go. I’ve been texting my co-worker Evan a lot lately, complaining about Ronnie. At work last week he said I should leave Ronnie.

I text Evan while crying and driving. I did it, I say. I left Ronnie, but I don’t know what to do, I say. Come over here, he says. I say, I can’t, that’s too scary. Then let’s get to the scary part, he says. I say okay.

I drive over to Evan's mom and stepdad’s house where Evan lives. He meets me on the steps in front of the house. It’s the first time I’ve seen him not in his uniform and cap. He’s wearing a button-up plaid, long-sleeved shirt and jeans, and his hair is flat against his forehead.

I park and walk up to him, slowly. He kisses me. He lifts me up. He carries me into his house as we kiss. He takes me to the living room and he starts taking off his clothes. I take off mine. We have sex on the recliner. Then the couch. Then the floor.

When we’re done, we get dressed and he cooks salmon, collard greens and mashed potatoes. He pours me a glass of wine, and him a glass. After I drink my glass, I try to put the cork back in the top of the bottle. I don't usually drink wine. Evan laughs. Usually when two people open a bottle of wine, he says, they drink the whole thing. I laugh and pour myself another glass. I don’t like to drink much, he says. It hurts my stomach, he says. I finish off the wine. We eat the food and talk.

We go upstairs to his bedroom and we have more sex.

More About My Childhood, Marriage, Divorce, and Sobriety

I'm feeling rebellious today. Rebellious in the sense that I don't care that this is a sentence fragment. Rebellious in that I want to just be totally honest. True to myself.

I've always been an "A" student. What that means for me, is, I want everyone to like me, especially those in power. You teach me, I absorb what you teach and spit it back to you just the way you want it, you give me an "A", and we're both happy...except that I just had to bust my ass to please you and your bosses, and that's no fun. And guess what: I didn't actually learn anything. I absorbed what you were saying just long enough to release it back to you the way you wanted it (yes, like a sponge...clichés exist for a reason), and I went along my merry way very grateful that you like me now.

I give you all the power in the world. You are God. You must like me, or I die.



Things have changed for me in that regard. With the help of a spiritual awakening, I've realized that you are not God. You are imperfect. Your word isn't Gospel. You have no power over me. All power comes from something greater than both of us. And yet we are all One, One with everything. My molecules and atoms, my keyboards' molecules and atoms...the hairs on my arm, the leaves on a tree, you - it's all the same.

And the only time there is is Now. When you talk about the past, you are denying the present, unless the past has some direct usefulness to Now. When you talk about the future, you are illusioning (I turned "illusion" into a verb), unless you are actually taking a step Now toward a future goal (and the "end" is not real, only the "means", right Now). (Eckhart Tolle)

I've been running around to various groups of people trying to get "help". "I'm not good enough." "I don't have the answers -- you must have them." "I can't do this on my own." Thank you, every one; you have helped me. Thank you for showing me just how fallible humans are. Thank you for showing me that the only real answer lies beyond us all. And yet, it's not beyond us. It's within us each. I can look within, instead of only looking to you. My own Being is worth something. The "something greater" doesn't necessarily mean something "beyond" or "without". The something within is connected to something greater. And the "something greater" isn't the words that come out of your mouth (I know, awkward noun-verb agreement), unless you connect yourself to it first before you speak. I know not to "listen" to you, now, if what you are saying isn't...True. If you know what Truth is, then I might "listen" to you, if I know what's good for me. But if not, I won't...if I know what's good for me. And I'm starting to know what's good for me = not "listening" to everything everybody says all the time. (The term "listen" I use to mean, "take what people say as True".)



I grew up with a neglectful, alcoholic mother and her abusive, alcoholic boyfriend. Then, I lived with my neglectful, insane dad and his abusive, meth-addicted girlfriend. In both households, I was a "stupid little bitch" who needed to "shut her goddamn mouth."

Teachers in school were the only ones who showed me kindness. They transmitted "knowledge," and if I was able to re-transmit that "knowledge" back to them just the way they transmitted it to me, I earned a mark of excellence that signified success, approval. Knowledge gave me the power to earn what I really wanted: Love.

I had few friends; kids who don't get good grades don't like kids who do. You have to make a choice - don't get good grades, and be "loved" by the masses, or get good grades, and be "loved" by the teachers. Teachers were the ones in power; their "love" was worth more. And their "love" more closely resembled the kind of Love I wished I could have gotten from either of my parents, the adults in my life who were supposed to Love me.



So I did my homework in the classrooms at lunch instead of socialize. Then, when I was 17, my younger sister, also desperately in need of Love (but who chose "love" from friends over "love" from teachers), came to live with me at our grandma's house. Because she was "loved" by friends, she was invited to parties. I had a job and a car, so I took her to these parties. There was alcohol available. I drank and I socialized, and for the first time in my life, people my age "loved" me, and it felt wonderful. My senior year of high school marked the beginning of my double-life. I still strove for good grades so I could be "loved" by teachers, but I still went to parties and drank so I could be "loved" by peers. I was accepted to UC Berkeley, UC San Diego, UCLA, USC...and drove me, my sister, and my cousin home drunk nearly every weekend.

Then I met the alcoholic, heroin-addicted boy who would become my new best friend and later my boyfriend and later my husband. He Loved me very, very much, and I him. After I went off to (what in this blog I call SDSU, or UCLA; not sure which one I've chosen to falsely represent the real) college, my boyfriend got kicked out of his mom's house when she found some heroin in his drawer, and he came to live with me in my dorm room. I couldn't keep my grades up; I chose his Love over my teachers' "love" (it felt better, real), and dropped out, moved in with him at his grandma's house, went to a community college, and worked part-time. Later, he started to get his "Indian money" (his dad, who abandoned him and his mother after his birth, was from a tribe whose casino earned their members a good few grand a month; his dad enrolled him as a member before his dad took off), and we moved into a house together. My double-life continued, as I earned straight A's in school, tutored English, Algebra and Geometry for AVID at my high school alma mater...and was sometimes up til 3 am wandering the town as we waited for our heroin hook-up to bring us dope.



My boyfriend had been raised by a single, alcoholic, abusive mother and (because his dad was gone) her alcoholic, abusive father (although, his grandfather showed him Love and not the abuse he'd shown his children). When we were together, I became the alcoholic, drug-addicted abusive girlfriend/wife and he became the alcoholic, drug-addicted, abusive boyfriend/husband.

Then we had a child.

I couldn't let our child grow up in an alcoholic, drug-addled, abusive home. Absolutely 100% NO FUCKING WAY was I going to repeat the cycle for my son. It took a couple of years though, for things to finally change. We tried counseling, 12-step programs - but the one thing that we were trying to change - the fighting - was a result of the one thing we refused to change - the drinking (we had quit the heroin years before our son was conceived...and I managed to not drink while I was pregnant, but boy was I pissed).

I wasn't getting my husband's Love anymore, so - I needed to drink.  And I was determined that I could control my drinking, if only I just [insert anything imaginable]. Besides, my drinking wasn't as bad as his, so mine must not be that bad, right? It never occurred to us that the only way to control our drinking was not to drink in the first place. "To control and enjoy his drinking is the greatest obsession of every alcoholic." (Big Book, ch. 3). As alcoholics, we have an allergy of the body and an obsession of the mind. Once we take one drink, we develop what's known as the "phenomenon of craving". And that phenomenon is more powerful than we are.



I'm glad that I can report that we're both sober today. Unfortunately, we didn't get sober until after I left him and filed for divorce, two years and two-and-a-half months ago (on October 10, 2011). He's 5 months sober now, and I'm 22 months sober; he's had a harder go of it than I, but he also got started much younger: his mom offered him his first drink at age 8. He got into her marijuana by 10 and was using heroin, thanks to the local gang, by 12. But after 4 rehabs and a stint in jail, he's doing quite marvelously. We share custody of our son, who's now 4...and if we're lucky, won't end up nearly as fucked up as we.

I'm grateful to recovery groups, especially the one that shall not be named (per its traditions). My ex-husband is more involved in an outpatient rehabilitation program that focuses on chemical dependency and depression, and that's what's working for him. But for me, the 12 steps, meetings and sponsorship have been making possible for me to not drink or use, one day at a time. What I'll simply call "The Program" (in honor of the 11th tradition, which states, Our public relations policy is based on attraction rather than promotion; we need always maintain personal anonymity at the level of press, radio and films) has also taught me how to simply "live life" (which is good, since I didn't have anyone else to teach me that while growing up...I was only taught to regurgitate facts or to do "bad" things).



After I was in The Program for awhile, I thought I'd try to solve other "problem areas" of my life by going to other programs. For example, I tended to spend way too much money and am in a lot of debt, so I joined a program for that. And after I left my husband, I had a lot of boyfriends and haven't stayed with any of them, so I joined a program for that. They don't have a "Mom's Anonymous", or I'd have joined that one, too; I really need a lot of help there.

But in all truth, I still spend too much money, and I still have boyfriends/dates/sexual encounters. But I work on a budget every month, and it gets better. And I do try to be honest with any man I get involved with at any given time, so I'm really not being a "bad person" there, either. The mom thing - well, I'm doing better than my mom did, perhaps, bless her heart...I just keep trying to do my best, every day. And my ex-husband and I keep Child Welfare Services (formally CPS) close by (i.e., we call them on each other at least once a month, lol); they're a big help.

I stopped going to the debt program, and am considering discontinuing to go to sex program, too. The program for alcoholics is the mother of all 12-step programs, after all, so why look any further for my development (in terms of 12-step programs)? Yeah, it's nice to go be around people with the same "problems" I have. But many of them aren't using the solution - the 12 steps -in the way that people do in The Program. The latter is a well-oiled machine. And if it ain't broke, don't fix it, right?



The Program also has a set of 12 Traditions that keeps it together. In these other 12-step programs, even if people work the steps (and many of them don't), people have no idea that there are also set of traditions that helps the 12-step program work for everyone (unless they are also members The Program, the only requirement for which is a desire to stop drinking: tradition 3). I am glad non-alcoholics do have access to a 12-step program for whatever ails them. But The Program was the first and the basis for all of them. That's why in The Program we say we're "grateful" alcoholics.

When it comes down to it, though, all one really needs to do for a successful, happy life, I'm told, is be honest, kind, tolerant, and loving, and free oneself of fear, resentment, dishonesty and selfishness (but not to the extent that one hurts his/her self: "to thine own self be true"). Self-preservation is really a by-product of helping others and yourself, apparently. It seems paradoxical, but it isn't: You only "keep it" if you "give it away", a saying goes. That's why the truly enlightened are always teachers (although there are many "teachers", in the most basic sense of the word, who aren't enlightened, which is the reason for this post in the first place, if you scroll back up).



Just for kicks, if you're curious, I'll share here the 12 steps which are suggested as a program of recovery from that state of complete powerlessness:

1. We admitted we were powerless over alcohol - that our lives had become unmanageable.

2. Came to believe that a Power greater than ourselves could restore us to sanity.

3. Made a decision to turn our will and our lives over to the care of God as we understood Him.

4. Made a searching and fearless moral inventory of ourselves.

5. Admitted to God, to ourselves and to another human being the exact nature of our wrongs.

6. Were entirely ready to have God remove all these defects of character.

7. Humbly asked Him to remove our shortcomings.

8. Made a list of all persons we had harmed, and became willing to make amends to them all.

9. Made direct amends to such people wherever possible, except when to do so would injure them or others.

10. Continued to take personal inventory and when we were wrong promptly admitted it.

11. Sought through prayer and meditation to improve our conscious contact with God as we understood Him, praying only for knowledge of His will for us and the power to carry that out.

12. Having had a spiritual awakening as the result of these steps, we tried to carry this message to alcoholics and to practice these principles in all our affairs.

So, it's really pretty simple. Admit you have a problem, clean house, make amends, and help others. If 12 steps seems lofty, check out the documentary that explains their evolution: Bill W. - Where do we aim what we thirst for? For more information, or if you think you may have a problem controlling your drinking, you can search online for a meeting (here is the website I used to find my first meeting: http://www.simeetings.com/LA/CalCountiesMtgIndex.html). The meeting is where it all begins.

If you aren't an alcoholic, Don Miguel Ruiz, in his book The Four Agreements (summarized here very well), also teaches us "how to live," with four simple commands: (1) "Be impeccable with your word." (2) "Don't take anything personally." (3) "Don't make assumptions." And (4) "Always do your best."



Then there's Eckhart Tolle, with The Power of Now. Here's a paragraph from his book that summarizes his philosophy for living quite well:

Always say "yes" to the present moment. What could be more futile, more insane, than to create inner resistance to something that already is? What could be more insane than to oppose life itself, which is now and always now? Surrender to what is. Say "yes" to life -- and see how life suddenly starts working for you rather than against you. (Tolle, 35)

 

And "The Cave Allegory" in Plato's Republic is highly illluminating.

So anyway...this post may have turned into proselytizing. I've used the term "you" loosely. But I'm just grateful to be learning new ways to live and to be happy other than needing people to love me, and I thought I'd share it all. I've realized how much power I've been giving people all my life, and how little power I've allowed my own self. I've also now subscribed to Psychology Today and have begun reading The Revolution: A Manifesto by Ron Paul. I'm trying not to assign God-like power to any of these works of words by people...but they are helping (along with, my favorite, the Big Book of Alcoholics Anonymous) to liberate me from assigning most people God-like power.

This is my Awakening. I'm 30 years old. Better late than never. I am so very grateful for those teachers who, however imperfect themselves, have taught me how to live as opposed to simply regurgitate information for their "love": Gautama Buddha, Plato, Jesus of Nazareth, Carl Jung, America's "Founding Fathers", The Oxford Groups, William G. Wilson, Ron Paul, Eckhart Tolle, Don Miguel Ruiz, Wayne Dyer, Rocco Versaci, Martha Margo Flores, Rich W, Christal Q....and last but always first, God.

And for the record: I'm still fucked up, and what I say isn't Gospel, either. I'm just like you. Hell...I am you. And I do Love you...because, for the first time in my life...I Love me.