Lessons In Humility And Compassion

It's been a very rough month. I won't detail every humiliating experience but let's just say one required me being dragged by the cap'n and a relative stranger out of a bar, into the car, and then up the steps of our casa. I have the bruises to remind me. I think God is trying to teach me a lesson in humility and compassion. You see, I've always comforted myself that whatever my faults, I am a kind person. I've never purposely done any act to hurt someone. I guess that's not good enough. I guess I have to think kind and humble thoughts too. I've always had an air of superiority. Always nodded knowingly when someone begged off from an engagement with an excuse that I figured was just a cover for a hangover or drunk. Always been able to raise my eyebrows at the drunken foibles of others. Always been able to blame the deficiencies in my life on someone else. Always been able to say, "Hey, at least I'm not as bad as so-and-so." All that has been taken away from me because now I'm the one that makes excuses, I'm the one that people point at when they reassure themselves that they are not that bad. I'm the one to blame for what is missing in my life. It's time to accept that. It's time to redeem myself, although I know that the memories of past actions are never completely erased from other people's mind. It's time to start making this a success story. Is this rock bottom? I pray it is.

Yesterday....

Report on yesterday. I did go to the soccer game, but first I had to pick up Babs (Barbara) and first we had to meet up with the gang (Sophia, Rhonda, John and Nancy) at Camote's Popular (local bar)  Then we all drove over to ChuburNA (that's how they pronounce it). The cap'n drove over and high centered our PT cruiser on a railroad tie on the soccer field and blamed  Babs and I for not spotting it. and he was pissy the rest of the night. It took 5 Mexicans and a 6 pack of cervazas to lift us off.We all left at half time and we dropped Babs off  and had a few rum and cokes and I danced the two-step with Jack on Bab and Jack's roof top to George Jones.  I have no idea how I ended up in my bed this morning but it sounds like I had fun.

Kary May Signing In

All of my blogs so far have been written when I was sober or hungover, today I thought you should see the other side. I have been up since 4:30 am and have been drinking wine ever since. It is now 7:40 am and I'm already wondering how long this day can go on. I have great plans about this glass of wine being my last or sobering up and having friends over for dinner. Probably not going to happen. This glass of wine at my elbow makes me feel that all of this is okay. I love her and I hate her. I wish I could snap my fingers or waggle my nose and be sober, sip, sip. I will report tomorrow on how today went. Did I lay on the couch and read all day (my favorite fantasy) or did they prop me up somewhere beside a jukebox? There is a 7:00 pm (which in MX means it will start somewhere around 9:00 pm)soccer (futball) match between the kids in Chelem and our rivals in the next village, Puerto Chuburna. I probably won't make it. Even when I am completely sober I don't stay out after dark, especially down here where drunk Mexicans on tricyclatos could wander into your path. I do have to pat myself on the back that I was the only sober gringo at the last futball match. The others looked like they were having a lot more fun and in post photos I look like a haggard un-fun person among the merry-makersl
So today I'm out there doing my best to make this my last glass and thanking God for the Bk Sp and Delete buttons.

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