Wednesday, February 12, 2020

On Fire

I used to hate building fires. I just couldn't get them to catch. When I was living with Bernard, I resorted to "making" him build the fires . . . and he would use something called a "fire starter" - these little brick-shaped pieces of compacted something-that-burns - along with lots of lighter fluid and kindling.



I'm living on my own now in a studio, a room with a kitchen and a wood stove, and a bathroom out in a hallway, and a laundry room across from the bathroom. My landlords are a sweet old couple who live upstairs. They are always sweet enough to make sure I have enough kindling for the wood stove. They don't have to do that. But I appreciate it very much.

I've learned to not throw away any food boxes, paper or paper towels that, in the old days, I would throw away in the trash (side note: I'm also recycling plastic for like, the first time ever). I used some Fire Liter bricks the first few weeks of living here, but then I ran out. Short on cash, I found that I can stuff a few old TV dinner boxes with the used (dry) paper towels and other crumpled used paper, and those work well underneath a small pyramid of kindling.



As it turns out, building, starting, and keeping a fire going takes patience, attention, and even a little selflessness. That's sort of how you cook things, too. You can't just throw it over heat and walk away - which is what selfish, impatient me wants to do. Of course, it doesn't work that way.

The conditions for a fire have to be just right. The lightest material that catches fire most easily from a stricken match goes on the bottom. But, straight paper won't do it; there also has to be a bit of density, so it doesn't burn out too quickly. It needs to stay on fire long enough for whatever is above it to catch. There has to be enough air circulating around it, but not too much. So then there's the pyramid, or "teepee" (if you want to be unconsciously offensive but maybe more accurate) of kindling, on top of that bottom "fire starter". Dense wood doesn't catch fire easily without more intense heat - but smaller, thinner pieces catch well.



Once the smaller pieces of wood are burning, you can't just throw a giant log on and close the wood stove door and call it a fire. I should have mentioned, of course, that, first, the flue handle (or handles if it has two) have to be pushed in all the way, opening the path(s) for the air inside to escape. Fire follows air. So that's also why, if you just throw a log on, you'll collapse the pyramid and there won't be any more air in between the smaller wood pieces to keep the fire going. Only when the flames are burning the wood so hot that it creates red hot coals plus flames can you then finally add the larger wood. But it can't lay flat; it has to be at a slight angle, so two or three pieces propped against each other is ideal, also pyramid-like.



But you can't close the door right away. The fire can't always handle so many sudden changes in conditions right at once. You have to wait for the new wood to be on fire - each new piece - before closing the door.

Now, if you keep the flue open, the fire will burn quickly and fiercely. That's what you want at first, but then, if you don't close it some, the wood will burn too quickly, and before you know it, you're out of wood. So you want to keep the flue open just long enough for the new, larger, heavier wood to start burning fiercely (although that wood needs to have first been seasoned: in other words, dried for a season after being cut down, otherwise, it's "wet" wood and won't burn well - the outsides will catch, but the inside won't burn, and you'll just be left with a solid chunk of coal that doesn't actually burn).



Once that heavier wood is burning well, then you can close the flue almost all the way so the wood burns slowly, to conserve the wood. And, of course, you have to watch it throughout the day to make sure it stays burning, putting another log or two on, every once in awhile, at just the right times.

Closing it all the way is great for if you have to leave for the day, or for overnight, after stocking the wood stove full of heavy wood on top of lots and lots of red coals and other wood that's all ready burning, because the embers will burn very, very slowly and be available much later or the next morning for another fire - if only done just right.

Attention, patience, and selflessness. I can't always just do things "my way". I'm finding out, more and more, that my way is, in fact, the worst way.



But, that's okay. God is grace - mercy that I don't deserve - and I will be restored. God and I are building my fire together.

If I do things His way, I will be on Fire. But keeping the fire going means paying attention throughout the day. Having patience with myself, and others. Continuing the fearless, searching soul-searching work. Being as selfless as I can. Serving others. God's will, not mine, be done.

View BILL'S STORY chapter   BB Bill's Story, p.16  
Faith has to work twenty-four hours a day in and through us, or we perish.









Dear God

Margaret was right. It’s not funny.

I finally just went back and actually read this blog. God help me.

In fact, God, I’m just going to talk to You now. Enough of this consciousness manifestation I-think-I-know-things thing. You are the Alpha and the Omega. I am nothing. You are Everything. I’m nothing.

I need You. I don’t know what to say, except, please, I need You to get rid of “me”. I’m a terrible human being. Most people don’t know this. I need You to help me stop using them. Help me stop deceiving them. Help me stop deceiving myself.

My only desire now on this beautiful Earth that You’ve created is to work for You. If I were to be given what I deserve, I know that it would be a slow, painful death because of my vast, vast Sin, followed by an eternity of torture. But You’re so merciful with your amazing Grace that You have allowed me yet to live. Please, remove EVERYTHING that is “me” without You. 

Help me think of You first in the morning when I rise. Help me every moment of the day to seek You first. Keep my eyes upon You. Keep my heart in You. Enter into me with every breath I take. Please take my will away. Thy will be done. 

I don’t deserve your forgiveness, yet I know it is mine. So I am Yours to use for Your Purpose. You Are My Salvation. Father, Son, Holy Spirit. I know the Truth. You are the Truth, the Life, the Way. I want nothing more than to abide in You.

Psalm 22 

19 But be not thou far from me, O Lord: O my strength, haste thee to help me.
20 Deliver my soul from the sword; my darling from the power of the dog.
21 Save me from the lion's mouth: for thou hast heard me from the horns of the unicorns.
22 I will declare thy name unto my brethren: in the midst of the congregation will I praise thee.
23 Ye that fear the Lord, praise him; all ye the seed of Jacob, glorify him; and fear him, all ye the seed of Israel.
24 For he hath not despised nor abhorred the affliction of the afflicted; neither hath he hid his face from him; but when he cried unto him, he heard.
25 My praise shall be of thee in the great congregation: I will pay my vows before them that fear him.
26 The meek shall eat and be satisfied: they shall praise the Lord that seek him: your heart shall live for ever.
27 All the ends of the world shall remember and turn unto the Lord: and all the kindreds of the nations shall worship before thee.
28 For the kingdom is the Lord's: and he is the governor among the nations.
29 All they that be fat upon earth shall eat and worship: all they that go down to the dust shall bow before him: and none can keep alive his own soul.
30 A seed shall serve him; it shall be accounted to the Lord for a generation.
31 They shall come, and shall declare his righteousness unto a people that shall be born, that he hath done this.
23 The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want.
2 He maketh me to lie down in green pastures: he leadeth me beside the still waters.
3 He restoreth my soul: he leadeth me in the paths of righteousness for his name's sake.
4 Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil: for thou art with me; thy rod and thy staff they comfort me.
Amen.

Tuesday, February 11, 2020

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.

Friday, January 17, 2020

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...

Wednesday, February 3, 2016

Facepoop

I have to write. I'm exploding.

My Facebook posts are becoming increasingly insane, I suppose. I even ranted to everyone about how they should just let people post whatever they want to, let's just love each other, kum bah yah, and all that crap. But...people are telling me to see a therapist and write in a journal instead.

Okay. I get it.

I've been posting about the death of my son's dad (my former husband) and how it makes me feel. I mean, how it really makes me feel, with no sugar-coating. It makes me feel like the worst fucking human being on the planet, which you only understand if you know how I treated him, or if you've ever been a colossal dick to someone and had the power to help that person but chose not to and he or she fucking died. My own son said to me,

"If my dad were dying of thirst in the desert and you had a cup of water in your hand that could save him, you wouldn't give it to him. If my dad were hanging off a cliff and about to fall and you had the rope, you wouldn't give it to him! It's your fault he's dead! And sorry doesn't do ANYTHING!!!"

Fuckin' A. Smart, right, poor little six year-old. Goddamnit.

I haven't blogged about it as much as I've posted on Facebook about it, which is a huge mistake. It's making people feel VERY uncomfortable. 

I forget sometimes that this is why I have a blog under a name that isn't even really mine in the first place. Yes, I could simply journal and save this shit for myself, or I could see a therapist and save this shit for one other person, but goddamnit, I'm lonely, and I must wanna fucking share my shit. So what if I want lots of people to know what I'm going through? Narcissistic? Maybe. But aren't we all a bit of that?

My son and his cousin are home from school, sick in their room. My sister is home from work, sick in her room. And I'm just sitting here by the woodstove waiting until 10 am when the people at the damn health clinic are done with their damn meeting and can make appointments again, damnit. And I'm obsessing over all this stupid Facebook crap. But yeah, there are other things I could and should be doing, I guess.

Anyway, maybe Facebook isn't the place to express grief. Maybe Facebook isn't the place to express anything, period. One of my family members said she doesn't care for anyone's posts on Facebook, because who gives a shit about a post that's going out to 200 friends? It doesn't make her feel special, she says.

Eh. 


Note to My Beloved Readers:

You're very important to me; more than you will ever know. Through writing about my life, I'm trying to become a better mother. That is, in fact, my penultimate goal. If I succeed, I hope to inspire fellow sufferers of abuse and mental illness like me to survive and thrive (and if I don't succeed, I'm still useful as an example of what NOT to do). So, please, join me! Subscribe by email. Read about my fall from grace, my digging myself out of the trenches of demoralization, and my uphill trudge, battling the demons on the road to restoration, redemption, and happy destiny. We are not alone, you and I. And if you believe it - God's will is where your feet are. If you have any questions, don't hesitate to email me at adorafallbrook@gmail.com. Thank you, and so much love - Adora Fallbrook (nom de plume).