Petition - A Petition to Support the Saving American Democracy Amendment : Bernie Sanders - U.S. Senator for Vermont

Petition - A Petition to Support the Saving American Democracy Amendment : Bernie Sanders - U.S. Senator for Vermont

Please sign this.  Finally a tangible peace of legislation directed at the heart of the real problem.  We have to CHANGE OUR WAYS, not make more rules.  This is a CHANGE, not a new rule.  Please, contact your reps in federal gov't and show support and ask them to represent you!!  Stop corporate manipulation of our liberty, and do it now!  Sign this.

A Bigger Plan

It's funny sometimes what we can learn from ourselves if we are really willing to look.  I was just reading a blog post from a fellow law school classmate who amongst other things, is a father, a husband, and an evangelical pastor with a masters in Theology.  I admire him.  He spoke of the dualism we all encounter in life; the tendency to separate our professional lives from our spiritual machine and the way in which we work to find not only balance between all of the life roles in which we exist, but about how the incorporation of our spiritual belief, really the core of who we are, into all of these areas really fills life with purpose. 

At least that's what I read into it.  See for yourself david : phillip : best

I contemplated momentarily the truth in these words, and how the dualism my friend speaks of is a concept I have an intimate relationship with.  This dualism is at the heart of my alcoholism and manifests in one of a thousand ways in the insecurity that drives prideful pursuit of professional gain...trying to move me away from my calling and push me down to my knees at the feet of an evil master. And so I reflect on the arguably best sentence in the Big Book of Alcoholics Anonymous:

God will do for me what I cannot do for myself.

I am certain in retrospect this statement has always been true in my life.  God was surely present on the thousands of opportunities I had to harm myself and more substantially others as I got behind the wheel night after night, year and year, drink after drink.

Nothing bad ever happened; not even a ticket.  God certainly was present in these moments.

The day I stood in the kitchen trying to cook dinner for my drug-addict boyfriend while he berated me drunkenly at the top of his lungs...only days before, he had thrown me against an open doorway, cutting my hand and my face as he pushed me in a tumble down the front steps into the snowy winter night.  I didn't have any clothes on, just a top and underwear.  He locked the door and I had to crawl through a window to get back into my own house.  I held a chef knife in my hand as I stood in the kitchen, hearing his insults, the sting of that previous night still fresh in my mind.  For the only real time in my life, I was literally at the precipice where I now understand people go in a crime of passion;  I just wanted him to stop yelling, and I envisioned sticking the knife in my hand right through his throat.  It did not dawn on me that he would die, I just wanted him to SHUT.UP.

I dropped the knife that moment;  God was surely there.  Later that evening, I jumped from a second story window into a bush to get away from that man for the last time.

I landed without injury and was able to get away.  God was surely there.

So many things have happened between then and now where the Higher Power that moves through me has taken the wheel when I did not have the strength.  It would have been easy to feel deserted in these moments by this Power I now call God, but life, and Recovery, have shown me the truth.  In my most horrible moments, this Powerful energy was really all that remained between me and some very poor outcomes.  A greater purpose was in store, and God has lead me there, day by day, pain by pain, victory by victory.

So this reflection happens in a few heartbeats tonight, as I read a blog post written by one with whom I would not normally mix (an AA reference David if you are reading this :-)) and I feel grateful.  Grateful that my alcoholic disease requires me to work against that dualism at the cost of life or death.  That immediacy of the need for faith-based direction in all things makes me glad to be afflicted with a condition which, should I want to remain healthy and purposeful, gives me no other choice.

These God moments manifest themselves in much gentler ways in my life today.  Or maybe less violent.  The acceptance of one's own limitations is not always a gentle process, so maybe I choose that word wrongly.  In the current time, I have taken my battle of purpose to law school, and on Friday, God once again did for me what  I could not do for myself.

He gave me a B on a test.

I am not joking.  I was angry.  I was angry for all the surface reasons that everyone blabs on about such as:

"all law students are used to getting A's"
"a B is really good in law school"
"not everyone can get an A"
and the cliches go on and on....

But I had to take a deeper look, or its just these kinds of thwarts to the ego that can spin an alcoholic mind off into a very bad and paralyzing place.  A place where every over-magnified inadequacy is confirmed; where every fear of failure that kept me glued to a bar stool for 14 years is screaming "I TOLD YOU YOU'RE A FAILURE!"

God wanted me to reconsider my purpose, and my motive; this is the message behind the B.

I told myself before I started this trek into the law that I would not get caught up in the stream that drags most law students into the misery; the lie that is perpetuated by the dualism of which my friend speaks and that lie in law school tells us that if we don't excel we won't get a job.  If we don't excel we won't have all the best opportunities.  If I don't make the top 10% I won't be able to live this dream the way I think it should look.

My ego told me that, and my fear; not God.  God gave me a B, and said WAKE UP!  REMEMBER WHO YOU ARE.  Remember that the outcome is not my choice; that the only choices I get to make are to show up, work hard, and be open to the path of purpose.

I did go to law school to prove something to myself, and the day I walked through the doors of the University of St. Thomas School of Law, that external mission was finished.  I succeeded in going beyond any comprehensible external point of accomplishment that my wildest drunken mind had ever been able to fathom in those lonely late night moments when I would dream about all of the better things I could be if I could just stop drinking.  Thinking about law school used to fill me with shame and now I am here.  I am here and filled with HOPE.  A hope I aspire to spread to all the newly recovering coming up behind and around me.  Anything is possible if you can open your heart to hope... it lines the path to a faithful and full spirit.

The only thing I have left to prove is that I can stay the faithful course and keep my heart open to purpose and vocation, resisting the urge to be filled with the lies of external validation.  To be of maximum service is my last remaining purpose and I needed to be reminded, released even. 

Released from the death grip of my own inadequacy.  I think God has bigger plans.

The Blame Game We Play: The Truth Myth of the American Media, the First Amendment and Our American Voice

In this heated political climate, I watch angry discourse unfold on social media throughout most days, today in particular, about the relationship of the First Amendment, the American media, and the way in which they import information to us, the American public.

Let me be clear when I say that I am a left-leaning centrist and am often disgusted with the spin put on many stories by the likes of Fox News, Bill O'Reilly, Rush Limbaugh, Glen Beck, Shawn Hannity and the rest of the 'Right leaning fear-mongering, hoping to fall on uneducated ears' lot of 'em.

BUT:

You will never catch me saying that they should be censored.  Should we have stricter guidelines like Canada on "lying" in the media and purporting of news?  Probably.  Read more:  http://www.huffingtonpost.com/robert-f-kennedy-jr/fox-news-will-not-be-moving-into-canada-after-all_b_829473.html

However, we as Americans are ultimately responsible for how we choose to synthesize information!  Stop the Blame Game for the love of God!!!

YES, it is unfortunate that many people grow up for some reason believing that somewhere in the law it says that the truth must be a component in reporting news, history, politics etc. Unfortunately the FCC removed the only regulation that has ever been in place to regulate the horseplay-with-the-facts heard on the airways when it discontinued the enforcement of the Fairness Doctrine in 1987.

Read more here (highlight with mouse then right click and select "open link" for all the wiki links in this article):  http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Fairness_Doctrine

The American Society of Journalism doesn't even have the words "truth" or "objectivity" in its mission statement.  Read it below:

The Society of Professional Journalists is dedicated to the perpetuation of a free press as the cornerstone of our nation and our liberty.
To ensure that the concept of self-government outlined by the U.S. Constitution remains a reality into future centuries, the American people must be well informed in order to make decisions regarding their lives, and their local and national communities.
It is the role of journalists to provide this information in an accurate, comprehensive, timely and understandable manner.
It is the mission of the Society of Professional Journalists:

— To promote this flow of information.
— To maintain constant vigilance in protection of the First Amendment guarantees of freedom of speech and of the press.
— To stimulate high standards and ethical behavior in the practice of journalism.
— To foster excellence among journalists.
— To inspire successive generations of talented individuals to become dedicated journalists.
— To encourage diversity in journalism.
— To be the pre-eminent, broad-based membership organization for journalists.
— To encourage a climate in which journalism can be practiced freely.

The goal of the media, as stated in the above mission statement, is to keep the First Amendment alive and bulging to its maximum, an admirable and necessary goal.  The Supreme Court behind some of the greatest legal minds of our short American history believe in a theory called "the marketplace of ideas"  and the heart of this concept is that the truth rises from the garbage in the end.  Read about it's roots in our legal system and its ties back to Socrates here:  http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Marketplace_of_ideas

Now more than ever it is important for us to realize that though we listen with disdain to some of the grossest displays of thwarted fact configuration I have heard in my lifetime (and I am sure people ideologically distant from me feel the same way about the commentators I like),  WE are ultimately responsible for not only gathering as much news as possible and coming up with our own point of view (I read and watch Canadian news and BBC to get realistic insight into what's happening in the U.S.), but we are also witnessing one of the last remaining vestiges of American freedom in full flourish:  As Supreme Court Justice William J. Brennan, Jr. stated in the seminal precedent case on First Amendment rights and the press New York Times Co. v. Sullivan, 376 U.S. 254 (1964), "

Thus we consider this case against the background of a profound national commitment to the principle that debate on public issues should be uninhibited, robust, and wide-open, and that it may well include vehement, caustic, and sometimes unpleasantly sharp attacks on government and public officials.

And, in the concurrence by Justice Black in the same case:


An unconditional right to say what one pleases about public affairs is what I consider to be the minimum guarantee of the First Amendment.

I agree, 100%.  The "truth" is a fallacy.  "Objective" media is equally as fallacious.  NOTHING can be told as a story across the airways without the interpretation of the story teller, it's literally impossible.

There is no line between censorship and fascism, no matter how disgusting I may think Glen Beck is on any given day.  He's not a dumb man.  He just thinks he's right and unfortunately doesn't have enough faith in his American brothers and sisters to refrain from trying to manipulate them with fear instead of speaking to their hearts.  It shows a lack of self-esteem, but not patriotism in my book.  To speak ones mind is to be a patriot and I remain unfettered in this stance.

The blame game has to end.  The biggest problem we have in this country is a cancer called "passing-the-buck".  We sit back and complain about what everyone is doing and saying while the people we elect continue to perpetuate the system that is slowly snuffing out the vibrant light of what makes this country beautiful.

We don't have to believe what they tell us.  We CAN take responsibility for ourselves.  We can change the system if we are so compelled...  It has happened before and can happen again.  A man named Thomas Paine once wrote a pamphlet called "Common Sense".  Many historians credit it with being the ripple that catalyzed the colonies into revolt against Britain.  There was no internet, phones, newspapers.....one man, a printing press, and an oppressed peoples' moment of clarity.  The pamphlet spread like wild fire across the colonies as people banded together to take back what was theirs.  read about it here:  The Actual writing:  http://www.constitution.org/tp/comsense.htm

And the impact:  http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Common_Sense

Do not doubt that we ARE in a flaccid, cushy, state of political oppression in this fine country of ours; and we just keep signing on the dotted line for it day after day after day. 

I could go on and on but my point is this:

Stop blaming and get educated.  Get involved.  Get moving.  What am I doing, you ask, besides writing this blog and complaining on Facebook just like everyone else?  I got off the couch, quit my little-gray-cubicle blow-my-brains-out job and decided to go to law school (I am currently a law student), which required getting my B.A. first in my mid thirties after deciding that yelling at the T.V. was not the way I want to participate in this global conversation.  I choose education as my ticket into the dialogue, everyday plotting my course towards a solution which cannot yet be seen but to which I have TOTAL FAITH a path will be revealed if I remain diligent...

So, before you criticize me, ask yourself, "What am I DOING, not SAYING, to be accountable to my AMERICAN VOICE?"    

The Pink Cloud Fallacy

As each sober anniversary comes to pass, the most recent being the 4 year mark on October 12, 2011, I spend a little time reflecting on the enormous changes that have happened over the last year, and the complexity/simplicity paradox which makes it nearly impossible to share this psychic change with anyone who has not gone through it themselves...a complete rearrangement of thinking, acting, planning and often times NOT thinking, acting, and especially not planning.  The under-ebb of faith that has infiltrated my life not only makes planning unnecessary, but also reveals how pointless it is; we have little control over the outcomes of most things, and to this end I frequently find my acceptance of that fact an incredible relief.  The difference between now and 4 years ago most simply is this:  

The consideration of all of the possible outcomes of even the smallest action previously rendered almost complete paralysis, leaving me to continually figure-8 in and around my fears (failure, non-acceptance, worthlessness, imperfection), always landing back at the beginning/end/nowhere; an eternal path of oblivion. 

Now, the daily quashing of consideration of anything other that what I can control (that which is right in front of me) renders me defiant in battle against my fear, often the victor with the help of my Higher Power, and continuing to experience outcomes which not even in my wildest imagination were ever in the realm of possibility 5 years ago on this day.  I call it my eternal and ever expanding Pink Cloud. I take issue with anyone that says that "the pink cloud can't last" or "oh that's just the pink cloud talking, get ready to buckle down!"  or "oh everyone goes through the pink cloud stage"  .... I think these are all bogus statements reflecting a person's own experience instead of encouraging the endless possibilities of an other's potential experience, and truly contradict the purpose of our great message. 

The infamous Pink Cloud...everyone can identify on some level with the concept of the pink cloud.  In its most simple form, a pink cloud is a moment of clarity, present-ness, humility...in Recovery, we are usually referring to that supposed period of time early on, usually the first couple months out of treatment or after setting down that last drink/drug/poker chip/doughnut/one night stand, when we are so grateful to be alive, and astounded that anyone in our family is still considering talking to us and the whole world seems amazing and filled with joy and hope.  (note:  I am also aware that for some this never happens, the beginning is terrifying and difficult, and this pink cloud comes much further down;  the concept of what I am trying to say still applies, though the context shifts)

I would like to contend that what actually happens is we find our ultimate destination right at the beginning of our journey!  We become so filled with gratitude that even the smallest things are amazing and every breathe seems like a gift.  Then, life on life's terms begins to challenge our new found light, and suddenly some person is telling us "oh that's normal, everyone has to fall off the pink cloud at some point."  WRONG.  ERRONEOUS.  All this moment means is that it's time to get to work.  The HP has been peddling and steering but residence on the pink cloud will now require the passenger to take over the peddling, that's all. 

It reminds me of the clarity and simplicity with which children look out at the world;  we spend our lives navigating the jaded experiences of our interactions with others, and that clarity and simplicity slips away before we have a chance to grab hold of it.  However, in sobriety, we once again are presented with the chance to see clearly again; to see simply again.  This is our Pink Cloud moment, and it doesn't have to end.  

The pink cloud moment is really when hindsight and the present meet; it is our opportunity to revisit a clarity and simplicity long lost, but with the cognitive skills of an adult, and make conscious decisions to hang on to it!  And really as with all things, my pink cloud only continues to thrive because that is how I perceive it.  All good experiences help it grow, and all bad experiences are just potentially good experiences that either need a face lift or a little extra work.  Therefore, the pink cloud can never get smaller only larger.  

My first broken heart in sobriety?  The pink cloud doesn't promise us love, only connection.  I have had a dozen broken hearts since I have been sober, and each has been an opportunity to see myself more clearly, and to understand what I do and don't want in a potential partner.  It has also been a testament to the passion with which I approach human interaction, on both platonic and romantic levels; a quality that defines me.  A quality I would not trade for all the bland days of existence, however trouble free they may be, that indifference can provide.  

My first bad roommate in sobriety?  The pink cloud doesn't promise us ease, only tolerance.  Some of the most miserable months of my sobriety were during this time, but ultimately I had to confront my own ego.  I also had a very practical lesson in the idea that I don't have to like every person and even more importantly, they don't have to like me!  What a relief it was to come to terms with that!!  A new freedom from the blood-lust of validation veiled behind a most miserable living situation.  

My first sober job becoming unbearably miserable?   The pink cloud didn't promise me riches, only motivation to expect more from myself.  Had I not came to the edge of my tiny cubicle sanity, the power I needed to head down my current path would not have become visible.  A thousand positive things have unveiled from this experience, and I will be forever grateful to the sucky-ness of working at that job.  

I don't have the room (or the attention span) to continue, mostly because the branches of these lessons start to split off at an exponential and rapid rate, but these are some of the early tripping points where I was told statements about "falling off the pink cloud" applied to my own life, and to that I say, NO.  These are the moments that make the Pink Cloud real.  

These are the moments where we get to work for it; to make it ours, and not some mystical reprieve that fleetingly slips away at the first hint of turbulence.  

The Blessin's of these lessons?  I am not killing myself with drugs, alcohol or cigarettes.  My mommy issues in sickness have blossomed into the most beautiful and supportive friendship in sobriety.  My Dad and I get to understand each other in a new way that requires few words to be understood. I have friends who I love deep in my heart, including two women who are my best gals in the world.  I support myself (sort of :-).  I have graduated from college, gained admission to and am now attending law school.  I get to help other woman find there way.   I have found out that "taking care of myself" with thoughtful eating and exercise is way better than "dieting and punishing myself".  I love to be home alone, sometimes even in total silence; an impossible idea before...  I sleep well and wake with fervor and hope.  The unknown path of my day fills me with excitement, not fear and I look forward to the adventure that starts each day when I walk out my door and head into life.  I get to feel ALIVE, PURPOSEFUL, and ELECTRIC.  This is the positivity of my shift; the cultivation of an ever expanding pink cloud. 

Any statement that turns away from the potentially enormous positivity of our shift in perception goes against the fabric of our purpose, and to statements of this category I emphatically decline validity.  

So these are my thoughts heading into the 5th year of this fear demolition adventure ... and my final thought is this if your still reading at this point:

Don't let the pink cloud slip away and don't let anyone tell you that it will.  GRAB IT, roll around in it, live it; it's all up to you.  

A Revelation Destination

I was hoping for a transformative experience when I decided to attend law school; not just in the obvious sense of gaining more knowledge, along with a new way of analyzing the world and a top notch set of professional skills, though all of those things are ultra important and define a sizable portion of my motivational stronghold on this adventure. 

I was hoping to be transformed in the core of my being in someway, and I chose the University of St. Thomas for this purpose.  

UST School of Law, a private Catholic law school, has only been around for 10 years.  However, it has gained national recognition over this short period of time for its focus not only on refining the skills of good lawyers, but on the moral standing and holistic health of its students - physically, professionally and spiritually.  There is a vibe of purpose in the air that evades explanation until you walk amongst the halls, interacting with faculty and student alike.  You will get the sense that all of these people, many of which could and have worked at more prestigious Universities or were accepted to more highly ranked law schools are there because they wanted more, just as I do.  That "more" is a recognition of the connectedness of humanity in all its faces; professional, political, personal, and yes, religious.

This "more" has affected me in a manner for which I was unprepared and am still relishing in a realization that I am not so separated from those who embrace strong organized religious connections in a way that I have previously shunned, if not ridiculed.  I want to get it down in writing if I can because sharing a burst of tolerance and clarity is the best way to spread it to others....

A little background: 

I am a Catholic.  I became a Catholic at 20 years old because I thought  I was going to get married (I didn't.  He cheated; strike one against Catholicism)  Regardless of my then-fiance's poor behavior, becoming a Catholic was actually a very positive experience.  The educational aspects of the one year prosylitization process were interesting, and the Father that over saw the program at the college Catholic center at Southern Illinois University was a wonderful and generous spirit.  The ex-fiance made it easy for me to turn on Catholicism, and I did.  There was more to my jaded perspective however, and over the last few years I have really been in an investigative mindset about all aspects of my resentments towards people, places, things, and particularly institutions.  This investigation is what alcoholics who want to get healthy do; we go back through the wreckage, sort it out, take responsibility for our part, and then get rid of it and go forward.  This process is absolutely vital for long term maintenance of the recovered state of "happy, joyous and free."  

In this investigation, many, many things have been revealed...some slower than others.  As I unravel my distaste for organized religion, I have had some revelationary thought connections over the last few weeks.

I grew up Methodist.  There was nothing wrong with it.  I in fact enjoyed some of it, including a few trips to weekend Church camp, and I really admired the Pastor of our church, Bruce.  He lived nearby and I used to ride by their house on the bike path all the time hoping he would be out in the yard so I could talk to him.  He had a warm spirit and a generous heart and I could sense this even as a child.  Thinking back over this experience, I can see the depth with which my alcoholic thinking reaches back into my life, ever convincing me that the thinking patterns of alcoholism manifest long before substance abuse becomes our solution.  

As I try to unravel the mystery of my behavior, I think about the rest of the story.  I fought my Mom with all the nastiness I could drum up EVERY Sunday my entire childhood and adolescence about going to church.  I made it about everything I could use to manipulate the situation...even in my early teens I was able to make strong arguments about the hypocrisy of Christianity and the Church and people in the Church and asking unanswerable questions such as, "how do you you know what God is and why do I have to go to a building to worship him if He is everywhere?"  

And when I say fight, I mean fight.  I said and did horrible things to get out of church.  I told her I hated her.....ugh so many times I have told my Mother I hated her.  (I love you Mom!)  

The punchline is that what I can see so clearly now is my cautionary and violent reaction to a disconnect that I could not define, only feel.  My sense that this community existed, but I did not belong.  No one told me this, it was just my innate perception of the world:  I didn't belong and therefore it was bad.  This reactionary distaste applied to all things, not just religion; but  I exercised it most strongly towards Church.  I found ways to fit in in other parts of life; I was a great athlete, smart in the classroom, funny and socially oriented.  These behaviors were all functions of my attempt to mask what I could not explain:  I didn't belong.  The funny thing about Church is the only way to fit in is to believe, and to believe you have to have Faith.  Faith requires surrender, vulnerability; emotional states of which my alcoholic thinking rendered me unwilling and eventually incapable of embracing or expressing.  

I remember vividly the first time I ever felt like I belonged somewhere or in a group, and it was when I discovered the Grateful Dead and consequently landed in Bolton Landing, NY.  Funny as it may seem, many people who could never connect found their way to the Grateful Dead, and through music (and LSD ;-)) were able to connect in a new way, forever solidifying my belief that God lives in Music; Music talks to our souls.  In previous posts I have talked of a return to this magic place in the Adirondack Mountains of New York, and its magic is in part contained in the partial reprieve from my malady when  I found my "family" there.  But, my solution had yet to be found, and eventually this mostly external sense of belonging, even for all of its benefit of lifelong friendships begun and wonderful times had, could not set right the disconnect which was so integrally woven into my psyche.  Slowly my substance abuse became deafening, and again eventually I found myself alone... 

The 'more' I was looking for, the community that I could finally embrace and that so lovingly embraced me was found in the rooms of AA.  

I think as an alcoholic some of the resentment I hold towards organized religion was a result of not being able to accept the connection; not being able to feel connected; and somehow, the most textbook defense mechanism we know as humans became my ally against Church.  I most viciously lashed out at the thing I most wanted but felt was escaping me around every turn; to be connected, accepted and part of something greater.  

So I have done this work over the last 4 years, unraveling and sorting and digging through the pathways of my thought....keeping some things, but throwing most things out and making room for the new; making room for the unknown...making room for Faith.  

And in this unknown place in which I have become comfortable, the God of my understanding has taken up residence.  An energy and a spirit that moves underneath everything I do, every person I touch, every experience that defines this new life that Recovery has given to me.  I do not call my God the Christian God or Allah or Jehovah or Christ, just God, meaning something greater that connects us all.  I do not say my God is NOT any of these other titles either, he or she may be one of these things, I do not know, and I do not need to know.  For me, God exists, and that is enough.  

Now back to the present, and the last month of my life....  the "more" of UST law.  

I walk about the halls of my school, and people are there because that extra connection that Faith provides is important to most of the people in the building.  You can feel it like the electric current in the planet of Pandora in the movie Avatar.  Most people are plugged in to something....Jesus, God, Allah, Buddhism, Social Justice... :

But here is the beauty of it all:

No one is telling anyone else what to plug in to, we are all just being plugged in together, AND talking about it.  

To walk among the halls of a legal institution and not feel like you should whisper when you say the word God, or Faith, or even AA, is a fantastical thing.  It respresents the crumbling of internal walls in my psyche of all the lies I told myself to hide the hurt of my disconnect.  

In Recovery we often talk about how we cope by convincing ourselves we live in some form of "terminal uniqueness", that since we are the only ones who are suffering so badly, no one can understand and therefore we can keep suffering and drinking.  It's how alcoholism keeps us sick.  In the rooms of AA, if we are lucky, a window cracks open where we are able to consider, just for a moment, that someone else feels like us, and the idea that we are not so unique creeps in.  Community becomes our Church and the door to recovery swings open.  

As I walk along the halls and sit in the classrooms of my school, where the under ebb of purpose flows, and we engage in the occasional pre-class prayer by our Tort Professor/Priest/Dominican Friar Father Whitt, the comfort of community seeps in through the holes punched in my defenses by the openness of AA.  And this thought passed through my mind during a speech by Father McDunnough during a mission statement roundtable the other day...

He was talking about purposeful living and the joy it brings....I felt like I was at an AA meeting and I thought to myself, "He stole this crap from AA!"  And then the more likely scenario burst into my brain...

AA stole it from the Church.  What?...said my brain...Did I just connect myself in a positive way to something said by a Priest?  

And when I say "stole", I mean more along the lines of "influenced" and I thought:

Not only are we not that unique amongst ourselves as people in Recovery, we are just not that unique period.  Every person wants to be connected.  Every person wants the purposeful interaction of community and the benefits of a life well lived in charity, generosity and humility.  We all want to feel a part of....

I go to AA, other people go to Church.  But the group I am connected to expands exponentially when I choose, as I had to choose to do one time 4 years ago in my first AA meeting, to focus on the similarities instead of the differences.  

That "group" becomes everyone, and even in the quietest moment of solitude, I am not alone;  connected ultimately by the things I share with others and what they share with me....and of course, Facebook.  :-)

Revelation.  It is beautiful. 

A Familiar Hiding Place

In the middle of Civil Procedure yesterday I had this flashing thought as I looked across the room.  Oh my God, I' m a law student.  Twenty years ago it was an idea.  Two years ago it was an inspiration...a moment in time where anything seemed possible.  Now, I'm in it and its hitting me right at this moment in the middle of this class. 

I am a law student. 

What have I learned in this first week, about the law and about myself? 

How do I begin to explain?  I feel like I am in the eye of a hurricane all the time.  Finding the right recipe of exercise, snacking, reading, sleeping, reading some more, comprehending and turning things over in my mind, questioning my own questions...the right combination of thinking and doing and thinking some more....praying...so I can stay in the eye of the storm.  This intensity of thought and emotion and stimuli, ever so tempting me to just walk out into the maelstrom and be torn to shreds.  I mean that's what we do right?  Us addict types?  We walk into the fire and try to jump out after we have already been almost burned alive? 

Not this time.  Something about this storm feels right.  I feel consumed, and it feels comfortable; a dangerous and familiar hiding place.  A level of intellectual intensity I have been searching for all my life, enough expectation and information to keep my ADHD occupied even in my sleep....

I am having coffee with my girlfriends in the morning.  The fact that I even have 'girlfriends' is a testament to the changes that have come as a result of Recovery and of having Good Orderly Direction in my life.  Four women are going to willingly meet me for coffee and conversation.  What a concept; coffee, with these women that I love.  I will want to ditch at the last minute and go straight to the law school tomorrow and hide in that comfortable, intense and sterile atmosphere, where I can cloak my insecurities in the veil of knowledge.  But then we'll chat, and laugh, and share updates about our lives, and the storm will quiet for a minute and when I leave them I'll be peaceful and settled...

And more focused then ever.  Then off to the school I'll go, balanced and ready to dive in.  Ready to scour a case and look up every word until I can tell you the story like its a person in my family.  I just want to make it mine, all of it.  The puzzle of it fascinates me beyond verbalization.

I haven't learned much about the law this week and I'd be lying and ridiculous if I tried to coherently piece together what I have taken in so far.  I have met some new people, some of whom I may know for the rest of my life, and some who will be part of a great story that I'll tell over and over about the drunk girl who found God and went to law school.  

The rest is about balance plain and simple...and maybe just a little bit about winning :-)  But that's just between me and my higher power :-) 

An Old Box, A Lost Poem, A Moment of Clarity

I haven't written much lately...inspiration comes to me in surges usually, and after the life altering trip to New York breathed life into the previous five posts, I have been coasting through the summer on the pleasantness of a life unfettered by compartmental memories.  Having your past, present, and future life feel like one fluid and  moving vehicle is an insanely calm experience and I have spent most of the last 6 weeks relishing this new sense of calm while I rest my mind before the maelstrom that is law school begins.

However, as life would have it, or thank God maybe I should say, adversity is the stir stick of interesting experiences and revelations and I have begun to feel bored.  In this boredom, I found it was time to start addressing tasks that I "wanted to get done before the summer was over" so that life was as clutter-free as possible.  One of these tasks included rifling through a pile of boxes that up until May of this year, had lived under the stairs for decades in my parents home, being saved for who knows what...trophies, t-shirts, childhood drawings and art projects, medals, sports letters and old basketball clippings and programs.  Stuffed animals, pictures, and Christmas gifts that we didn't like but we kept and cherished because "Grandma made it", like the doll with the knitted skirt that you could hide a roll of toilet paper under it in the bathroom; items that have no place but can't be thrown away.  Memories that make us smile, and also invoke a sense of regret; a regret not in wanting to relive these experiences, but wishing we had the same mental capacity of the present day when experiencing these moments way back when...

I see old pictures of my now not-so-little little brother, with his adorable curls and thick glasses, chasing me across a field with the adoration of a child and I feel the pit in my stomach cry out a little, wishing my 8 year old brain had known then how much I wish now that I had been able to relish that moment with a little more depth.  It makes me miss him when I see these pictures and wonder if I should move closer to him when I am able ....
Maybe this is why we keep these boxes under the stairs...to be confronted with the frailty of it all can be a powerful experience!  A good attitude comes in handy in these moments of reflection and turning to gratitude helps the sadness of missed moments pass.
I found one piece of paper however that I have been unable to put back in the box.  It was poem.  It went as follows:

Emptiness is a feeling I just can't seem to shake,
Every time I open up my heart, a cold wind seems to blow through.
I don't know where my strength lies,
It seems to have deserted me like it seems everything else in my life has.
but is it me or the circumstances?
Sometimes I wonder if I bring it upon myself,
Always searching for the insecurities that make me feel so burdened inside. 
So tell me, how many mornings must  I wake up and grasp for strings to keep myself going?
I can't hold on forever, and time seems to drag with every passing day.
When will I be blessed with the love I see so many others share?
Or will I be the one who can never be satisfied, the one who will always have doubts?
Sometimes I feel as if I've been chosen for some greater purpose, but what?
I have nothing to believe in.  Everything concrete to me has been stripped away.
Ever corner has its shadows,
And each time you thing you have finally figured out what you want, and how you want to get there, 
You find another blank spot that has no answer.
So many times I have cried into my pillow and thought...
Who the hell am I and and is there a place for me in anyone's heart?
Will I ever feel this ball and chain of loneliness lift from the inner reaches of my soul?
Maybe that is my greater purpose.
To find true happiness, instead of looking for an available substitute.  
Sooner or later, love will find me hopefully, 
And I guess that's as good a reason as any
To get up in the morning. 

I was 14 when I wrote these words down.

Fourteen.

On the lighter side, I would like to thank my parents for encouraging me to read and write as a child, it still boggles my mind that  I had the ability to write this down at that age.

When I read this the other day, sitting in the garage on small bench in the sweltering heat, my eyes welled up with tears and not because this sounds like the dramatic rant of a depressed teenage girl.  I could see how it might read that way to someone who has not been me for the last 38 years.

What I was reading was the physical manifestation of my stopping point:  the point where my personal growth as a human being stopped, and my alcoholism took the wheel.  Everything I did from the age I wrote this poem until the moment I surrendered myself to the realities of my addiction issues was controlled by the mental obsessions and coping mechanisms that become alcoholism.  How do I know this you ask?

I know this because I could have written these exact same words sitting in my room crying in treatment at 34 years old.  This poem represents the absence of connection that drives the alcoholic mind.  This poem was a snap shot of the place where my emotional maturity would remain for the next 20 years...afraid to go forward, afraid to grow and be judged, grow and be hurt, grow and be rejected.  A sensitivity too deep to wear on one's sleeve, so I began the process of burying it, until I landed at Hazelden and begun to dig my way out.

Alcoholism has nothing to do with alcohol.  Alcoholism is about coping with life, living in a magnified and intense state of fear that we will die of a broken heart, disconnected from the adoration we seek.  Fear of dying with out the validation of human connection, fear of not mattering to another human soul.

I got to look into my own disease when  I found this poem and it was painful to read.  However, after the sadness passed, again I am filled with gratitude.  Through the program of AA, I have been able to find the other side of this deep disconnect that infiltrated the synapses of my brain chemistry...without the depth of this sadness, I don't get to relish in the joy that now consumes my life.  Without the failure, the brokenness, the emptiness, I don't get to embrace the smallest moments of connection I have in life today...the eye contact across a coffee shop, the brush of a hand of a loved friend across my arm; the simple moments of knowing the alcoholic next to me understands my deepest pain and is able to hold my heart with care in their hands and love me wholly.  This is powerful shit people, and I live and breath it today.  This is the Grace of letting the WHY of life, the "blank spots with no answers", be worked out by a power greater than myself, a power that has no face, no body, just a feeling and whisper in my mind that tells me what I need to know when  I am stuck...if  I choose to listen.

I am still sometimes lonely, but no longer is there " a ball and chain of loneliness" attached to my soul, dragging my self-esteem down into the tar pit that is alcoholism.  My soul is happy, joyous and free, and for this I am eternally grateful.

 Back in the box you go old poem, to be revisited again in another 20 years, probably in the midst of some desperate moment in need of gratitude.

The rest, as I often say, is gravy :-).  That gravy is as good a reason as any to get up in the morning, right?