All Out War

I just had another birthday. Another year passed and I haven't slayed this monster. Next year I will be 50 and I so hope to be able to say something else. I know I should look back and look at all the sober days I have accumulated, but today it just doesn't feel like enough. I'm not enough. Not strong enough, not smart enough, not good enough. I need to sit down and make a list of things I've accomplished this year. Maybe that would make me feel better, maybe it would make me feel worse. I reached out to an old friend on my birthday. She had slain this dragon 9 years ago and I asked how she had done it. She said, "Willpower." How simple and terrifying. I wanted a magic bullet. AA, church, ….something. But no just willpower. How daunting! And then she said she still sometimes really wants a glass of wine. After 9 years. That scared the bejeezus out of me. A poster on one of the boards the other day said it had taken him 9 years to learn to moderate successfully. I can't wait that long. So today I'm abs'ing. Tomorrow I don't know what I'll be doing but I'll still be fighting the fight. Wounded and bloody on the battlefield.

Yikes! What a depressing post. What can I say? I said I'd be honest. I think a lot of us, at least I did, thought that once we had won some those first few skirmishes the war with this monster would end quickly. Unless you are extremely lucky, it doesn't. It takes the really strong to see it through to the end. This enemy occupation of mine has been here a long time and it's not going to retreat that readily, dammit! So though I'm weary to the bones, I've not yet begun to fight. I'm beginning to get really pissed off.

So I guess my battle cry to you is simple, "Don't give up." If you've lost that first battle, if you've lost that 1000^th battle, don't give up.

I out there today just doing my best to take that next hill.

Scabs, Scars or Scat

Happy St. Patrick's Days. Just another day on which the world thinks I should drink. Especially with a last name like Hickey.

I raise my virtual beer to all of you (all 7 of you) "Slainte!"

There is a shar pei that lives down the calle from me. I have no idea how a shar pei got to the Yucatan but it probably also has to do with the reason that all of the restaurants in the food court at the mall in Merida serve Chinese food. No matter what their name is. Mayan Temple now serving the freshest sushi in Merida. Tulum to Go is the place to go for fried rice and sesame chicken. Anyway, the shar pei that lives down the calle loves to stretch out across dirt road and survey the to-ing and fro-ing. I alternately call him Scabs or Scars or Scat depending on his demeanor and mange level on any given day. To avoid confusion, I'll just call him Scabs in this blog. Lately I've been concerned because I haven't seen old Scabs guarding the calle for a couple of months and I assumed he had crossed the Great Calle to that great food court in the sky. I shouldn't have picked old Scabs off so readily (Lo siento, I couldn't help myself). Last evening I was walking Daisy, the time share dog, when she emitted a low grown and her hackles arose. Lo and behold, stretched out regally up the road in front of us was our old sentinel, Scabs. Or so I thought. As we got closer I noticed that this dog's coat was full and lustrous without a hint of mange to be found. Was this a new dog? When we finally got close enough, he finally roused himself enough to swing his leonine head our way. I realized it was indeed good old Scabs. But a better, more improved version of Scabs. Scabs must have just got back from rehab!

I haven't been to rehab but I, too, am experiencing a new improved Kary May. Unfortunately, I have "recovered" the 5 pounds I lost post-apocalyptic binge. I really think I could market my diet plan. It's very simple. You basically just drink alcohol (any kind will do) until you can't brush your teeth or watch Denny's commercial's without gagging to the point of vomiting. All of those unwanted fat cells will just melt away along with your liver and brain cells.

I guess I'll learn to live with the extra 5 pounds or do something desperate, like start jogging (probably not going to happen). And I'll have to think of a new name for Scabs. Maybe Scamp? It doesn't fit him but maybe he'll grow into it.

So today I'm out there doing my best to stay more "Scampy" than "Scabby" and asking God, why, if he is going to provide a plethora of Chinese food in the Yucatan why doesn't he end us some hot mustard, too.

Sincerely, Kary May

Dear Well-Meaning _________________ (Insert whichever title is appropriate at any given time. i.e. friend, lover, sister, son……)

Thank you for inquiring as to my well-being. I know you are concerned about me. I am even more concerned. Yes, I know I have a problem. I live with this problem day and night, every minute and second. You are not telling me anything I don't know. I know it in and out, up and down and sideways. It consumes me. Yes, I know you are disappointed in me. No one is more disappointed in me than I am myself. When I let you down, I let myself down even more. You probably don't know this but when I know you are expecting something of me, I plan for it days or weeks or months, even years in advance. I do my very damnedest to be prepared for it. I quit drinking for days, weeks, months or even years just so I won't disappoint you. What happens? I don't know. I stay awake at night reliving it, trying to figure it out. How did it happen again? Why can't I see it coming? You say you are so angry at me? Yeah, I know how that feels. You can't hear it but nobody is yelling louder at me than I am yelling at myself. You say you are so scared for me? Buddy, join the crowd. I'm terrified. I'm terrified I might kill myself with this stuff. I'm terrified I might hurt you or someone else I love. I'm terrified I might hurt an innocent stranger. You say I'm just not trying hard enough. I know! I tell myself everyday if I just try a little harder I'll be able to lick this thing. I'll try rehab, if that doesn't work, I'll try AA, if that doesn't work…..I'll try. I can promise you I'll never quit trying.

Everything you are telling me, I already know, but I know you need to say them. But I really don't need to hear them. They are an endless litany in my head, my heart, my soul.

What I need you to say is you won't give up on me, then I'll be able to say back to you, "I won't give up on me either."

Sincerely,

Kary May

Just out there doing my best today to keep the lines of communication open and thanking God for the delete button. It's such a handy device, now if I could just use it for some of the past days, weeks, months, even years of my life. lol

While I Breathe, I Hope

I'm not going to go into what happened. You can find the same old story numerous times on this blog. Just a different time, different place and different people disappointed in me. No instead today I'll write once more about HOPE. A much written about subject and espoused about far more superiorly than I am going to attempt here, but today I need to re-establish and reinforce its presence in my soul. Our hope is ours alone, it does not belong to anyone else. It is our tool, our weapon, our power, our magic. No one can take it from us and no can kill it, but us, ourselves. It may be hard to find sometimes but it doesn't matter how many times you've been told you are hopeless or you have told yourself you are hopeless, if you are reading books, bibles, websites, message boards, or this blog, you still have it. It is the fundamental ingredient you need to build on. So get yourself up and brush yourself back off just like I'm doing, again. Just like the losing team of what looks like a hopeless football game, I'm still rooting for you and for me.
So today I'm out there doing my best to water my wilting HOPE seedlings I've neglected and thanking God that Hope Springs Eternal.

Meanings of Hope

1. Expectation

2. Promise (My Favorite)

3.Prospect

4. Confidence (Hard to find sometimes)

5. Anticipation