Starting All Over Again

Happy Sunday! My grandson is coming today to stay for a week. I shouldn't say he is my favorite human being on the whole planet, but he is. It is just easier to love children than it is to love their adult counterparts. He is my main incentive to getting sober. He is 7. He doesn't know Grandma is a drunk. I hope he never does. I went to visit him a couple of weeks ago. I went to his first baseball game. Of course, I was hungover because I'd had a few too many while watching him do a series of brilliantly idiotic jumps into the hotel pool the night before. And then I couldn't sleep as usual. But I was doing okay at the game because I'd had a little hair of the dog to get me through. He'd come up to bat and slyly give me a little wave before he took his stance. He loves me. Sometimes I deserve it.
In comparison, the baseball game wasn't that bad. There was his soccer game when I had to go to the bathroom and vomit. There was the time it was just him and his Grandma up here on the mountain and I was too hungover to get off the couch and I had him fix himself a bowl of ice cream for dinner. I am so ashamed to write this. Believe me, I really didn't want to write this. But I promised to be honest.
Of course, there are good times, too. But the bad ones are the ones I replay over and over and over. I don't want any more sequels. So today is a day for new beginnings. Actually every hour, every minute, every second, every breath is a chance at a new beginning. I'm taking mine right now.  .
So today I'm out there doing my best to make wonderful memories and thanking God for fresh chances.

Simple Pleasures

A wonderful meal with a new recipe (Artichoke Chicken).
A restful night's sleep.
An early morning walk up a mist shrouded mountain.
A hot cup of tea on my sunny deck while I watched the morning battle at the bird feeders.
These simple pleasures are my reward for not drinking for the last 3 days. Not monumental but still miraculous.
For once in life, here's your miracle,
Stand up and fight.

That was the song that popped into my head as I was walking up my mountain this morning. As you know, I don't believe that random thoughts that pop into my head are accidents. I think they are my Co-writer talking to me.

"Cautious Optimism" is what popped into my head when I shut up long enough to listen as I had my nightly conversation with him last night. May was a difficult month for me. Although I abstained half of the month, the rest of the month was the shits. But while I was still back in MX I found my journal from last May (When I die and my kids or grandkids find all these journals and scribbled notebook pages tucked everywhere they are going to think I was really wacko but at least they'll know I was trying.). Last Mother's Day I had written in the journal that my goal for this Mother's Day was that my relationship with my boys would be closer. My son who struggles with his own demons didn't call last year. The next day his excuse was that he was in jail. I guess he thought that would make me feel better. This year I got a card from him thanking me for always being there for him. I think my relationship with my other two is getting closer also. So I guess things have improved. So far I have abstained all of June (3 whole days) and I'm approaching June with "Cautious Optimism" and a quiet hope.

Another thing that my Co-writer explained to me last night is that while he may reward me when I am trying my hardest and not drinking, he doesn't punish me when I fall. The repercussions I suffer from my drinking are my own self-inflicted punishments.

So today I'm out there trying not to be carelessly optimistic but also not to be stiflingly cautious either.

Letting All The Flies In

Yes, I'm still here. I didn't realize it had been so long since I blogged. I made a promise when I started this blog that I wouldn't go away. I wouldn't quit like so many of the bloggers that I had started following had. So don't give up on me, I'll always be back. That's probably the thing I hate most about my drinking, unfulfilled promises in the form of trips not taken that were planned, rotten vegetables in the bin from dinners planned…The other day I looked at my sister-in-law's picture albums on one of those internet sites and there was an album of a trip they had taken with pictures of my brother, my sister-in-law, my nephew and my grandson. Where were the pictures of me? I was supposed to be on that trip but I was too hungover sick to go. I'll never get the chance to take that trip again. I sacrificed all those memories. I hate that! So I'm keeping my promise to whoever reads this blog come hell or high water or hangover.

So let's soldier on. To be fair, I haven't spent the entire last few weeks in a drunken free fall. Some of it, yes, but not all of it. We were tying up the loose ends of leaving MX, having our last fundraisers, a trip from the capn's oldest and his wife, and the round of good-bye get togethers with the corresponding drinking and lack of sleep. But now I've been back in the solitude of CO for 4 day and am well rested and ready to start this party again, minus the drinking. Sort of. I still haven't figured out what my long term plan is but right now I'm moderating. I'm allowing myself three glasses of wine in the evening. I'm waiting until 5:00 pm for the first one, the second one is while cooking dinner, and the third one is with dinner. I'm making each one last at least an hour. I'm not getting drunk, I'm sleeping well, and I'm not hungover. And I'm asking myself what's the point of drinking them. But that's what I'm doing right now and it seems to be working.

As I've said before in my blog, I've been trying to follow the Artists Way for several months. It's a book that helps you unlock your creativity by awakening or reawakening you to your inner artist. It has a strong spiritual premise and the author believes that our Creator, my Co-writer, creates us to be creative. If you don't believe in a higher power, just like in this blog, that's okay, you can still learn a lot from this book. I've found a lot of the principles discussed apply also to my journey towards sobriety. The book says self-skepticism is a big block to finding our inner artist. At this point I'm finding it to be a block for me in finding my way to sobriety. Here is what the book says.

"Perhaps the greatest barrier for any of us as we look for an expanded life is our own deeply held skepticism. This might be called the secret doubt."

I have been feeling this way a lot lately. I've quit visiting the message boards as much because I'm impatient and angry with the newbies that are on there and are having their first experiences of sobriety. They are so happy to have their first alcohol/hangover free days. They think they have found the answer and the trip is over. I hope it is for them. But I'm skeptical. And I'm so discouraged that mine isn't and I wonder if it ever will be. But then the author of AW (Artists Way) goes on to say,

"I like to think of the mind as a room. In that room we keep all of our usual ideas about life, God, what's possible and what's not. The room has a door. That door is ever so slightly ajar, and outside we can see a great deal of dazzling light. Out there in the dazzling light are a lot of new ideas that we consider too far-out for us, and so we keep them out there. The ideas we are comfortable with are in the room with us. The other ideas are out there so we keep them out.

In our ordinary, pre-recovery life, when we would hear something weird or threatening, we'd just grab the doorknob and pull the door shut. Fast.

Inner work triggering outer change? Ridiculous! (Slam the door.) God bothering to help my own creative/sober recovery? (Slam!) Synchronicity supporting my artist/sober me with serendipitous coincidences? (Slam, slam, slam.)

Now that we are in recovery there is another approach we need to try. To do this we gently set aside our skepticism-for later use, if we need it-then when a weird idea or coincidence whizzes by we gently nudge the door a little further open.

Setting skepticism aside, even briefly, can make for very interesting explorations. In creative recovery, it is not necessary that we change any of our beliefs. It is necessary that we examine them.

More than anything else, recovery is an exercise is open-mindedness. Again, picture your mind as that room with door slightly ajar. Nudging the door open a bit more is what makes for open-mindedness. Begin this week, to consciously practice opening your mind."

A load of BS? I don't think so. I, myself, have experienced those fortunate coincidences that happen when I am fully working toward my recovery. I fully expect a small prayer to be answered as a result of writing this blog today. I may not notice it or even know it about it. No matter what, I'm ready to dare to dream the expanded dream of what my life can be and try to make it happen.

So today I'm out there doing my best to swat any of those pesky doubts that fly through my open door and maybe wonder out a little bit and see what the weather is like out there.

Happy Easter

Yeah, I know I’m a day late but really every day is Easter.


I was up at 5:30 am this morning. Up in my tower with the lights off and a candle glowing, just waiting for the sun to come up. I could hear the waves breaking on the shore and a soft dawn breeze whispered over the rooftops of my sleepy village into the windows of my cupola (dome). It was simply perfect. Yesterday was a celebration of resurrection and rebirth, yet this morning with the dawn sky turning pink and the song of the birds welcoming the new day, I realized every day can be a celebration of my own resurrection. With every new day, every new minute, every new breath I have the amazing opportunity to change my life. It is my choice what I do with this opportunity. Do I ignore it? Do I squander it? Do I choose to make my life more difficult? Or do I choose to make my life what I want it to be, what I dream it could be. The choice seems so easy. So why is it so hard? When I’m drinking, alcohol steals those choices away from me. I may think I’m making my own decisions but I’m not. Alcohol always has its say. On day 9 of abstaining, I’m making my own choices. I’m looking to the future to what I want my life to be in 6 months, 1 year, 5 years….. and today I’m going to start making tracks towards that future. When I drink, alcohol fills my nights and days but when I’m not drinking there is a void, a space that is not filled. Instead of going back to drinking I think I’ll start filling that void with my dreams and fill my time with working toward those dreams. Here’s my list of dreams:

1. Write a book and have it published.

2. Have the means to live in both Mexico and Colorado and travel when I like.

3. Have close and loving relationships with my family.

4. Have a life filled with people I love and who love me.

That’s it. Although I already have the bottom two to a degree, there is always room for improvement and there is always room for more people to love. Now it’s time to make a game plan. I’ll keep you apprised of the steps I make towards these dreams and the outcomes. I challenge anyone reading this to do the same. Let’s go get our dreams.

Today I’m out there doing my best to turn my dreams into reality.

A Love Letter

One of my followers commented the other day that I hadn't mentioned my Co-writer in a while. For those of you that just started reading this blog and haven't read back through the archives, my Co-writer is God. Now that may freak some of you out and you may not believe and that's okay. I don't get all preachy and most of the time after reading some of my posts you'll probably find it ludicrous that I claim a writing partnership with Him. Does He know about this? But every time I sit down to type one of these blogs I do ask Him to guide me to write what He wants me to say to help myself and whoever is reading this blog. I think I've been ignoring Him lately so today I put off writing until I really felt that I was listening to Him. So here goes
I've noticed on MMlist (Moderation Management mailing list) that many of you are going on this journey for the first time. And I've noticed that some of us that have been on this journey for a long time are getting discouraged. I should mention that I am on Day 6 of abs'ing. Usually by now I'm euphoric and my mind is racing and I'm going to save the world, or at least myself. That's not happening for me this time. Although there is a lot of extraneous crap going on that is adding to this, I can't blame my despair totally on that. I've become skeptical. I've been on this journey for at least 4 years. I no longer believe that this time is going to be "the time" I figure it all out. I still hope it is but I don't believe it is. So in the midst of all this, I asked for inspiration and I was told to take a letter from my Co-writer. (If you don't believe just pretend it is from me.)

Dear you,
Please don't give up. You have come so far and I am so proud of you. Do you know how hard it is to even admit you have a problem? So many people don't. I am so glad that you did. I was worried about you. I wish I could make this easy for you but if it were easy it would be too easy to go back to where you were. There are lessons you have to learn along the way to make you stronger than you were. I know they are hard and I know they are painful. Remember when you were a child and you touched a hot stove, it hurt and you cried but you never did it again. I wish this was that easy. I wish I could keep you from that damn stove but I can't. You have to do it yourself. You keep coming back thinking this time it won't burn you. But it always does. I don't like to see you hurt. Please keep trying to stop. I will help you. You can do this. We can do this together. You don't know how strong you are, but I do. I know you will learn to stop hurting yourself if you just don't give up.
I wish I could promise you that all your problems will disappear if you just stop drinking, but they won't. People that don't drink have problems, too. I can promise you that you will be strong enough to handle your problems. I can promise you that you will have the peace of mind that you did your best. I can promise you the pride in being the best person you can be. Can I promise you happiness? No. Nobody is happy all the time. Happiness is temporary. But I can promise you contentment that lasts.
I know you are doing your best.
I'm not giving up on you. Don't you dare give up on yourself.
I love you. I want you to love yourself.
Love always,
Me
P.S. Today I'm out there doing my best not to edit my Co-Writer.

Facing My Angels

Angels and Demons, get it. Last night I walked down the calle to our closest friends' casa. I've been avoiding them. They were there the night of the debacle even though they're not usually part of the bar crowd. Actually, pretty much every expat was there because it was a special party a friend was giving to welcome her son who had never been here before. I certainly made it memorable for him. Even if they hadn't been there they would have heard about it because this is such a small community and when you go on a two week bender someone is bound to notice and let everybody know. Even, Nancy, the Mexican girl that own the little tienda (store) across the road from us called our housekeeper, Gaby, to see if we were alright because our roll down gate had been down for two days. I'm ready to go back to the mountains where if a bear ate me nobody would notice I was gone for months. Anyway, I walked down to our friends and they gave me a big hug as I walked in their gate and asked, "How are you?" And somehow that was worse than when those other people asked. Because I knew they really cared and it's hard to know that you've caused people who care about you concern. It's hard to acknowledge that you are in need of concern. Tomorrow I'll have more friends over for dinner and I'll mix them Mojitos but I won't have any. Thursday I'll have another friend over for dinner who is going back to Canada at the end of the week. He's been down here for 3 weeks because he had surgery and I was supposed to be helping him out but I didn't. Today I'm going to a bar (I told you everything takes place in a bar down here) to meet a guy to talk about fixing the computers at the school for the kids, something I forgot I was supposed to do. I'm trying to get back those two weeks. Wrong. I can't get back those two weeks. I'm trying to make up for those two weeks. I can't do that either.
Today I'm out there doing the best I can to like the Kary of today.

Facing My Demons

I was invited to two different parties last night. I really, really didn't want to go to the first one. It would be attended by none of my close friends, but a bunch of the people that had witnessed my embarrassing evening in which I had to be carried out of the bar. Of course, the guy who had helped with the carrying would be in attendance. To say I dreaded it would be putting it mildly. But I had to go for two reasons. First, the girl that was throwing it is a real sweetheart and has been supportive of every fundraiser we have done and she was welcoming her husband and dog from England. Second, the cap'n said I had to go and damn it he was right. I couldn't cower in my casa forever.
So I painted up my lips and rolled and curled my tinted hair. I put on a short little tropical print dress. I lifted my chin and pasted a smile on my face and I strode in. Here's how it went.
"Kary!" from everyone, "How are you?" (With wiggling eyebrows and little snorts in my imagination)
"I'm great," from me.
"What would you like to drink, Kary," from my lovely hostess
"Do you have diet Coke?" from me.
"What? I've been working out all week in case I had to carry you home," from the guy who helped carry me home.
A gentle laugh, from me, "I think I forgot to thank you for helping me out that night. Thank you." Smile! Smile! Smile!
And that was it. There were a few more references to working out from the guy but nobody else said anything except to marvel that I was drinking straight Diet Coke (If they'd been my close friends they would not have been surprised, since my close friends see me do this on a regular basis).
I looked around and surveyed the crowd. The guy that was almost catatonic in the corner, the girl that weebled when she walked, the man next to me who kept laying his head back and closing his eyes. This was all before 7:00 pm I'm not being superior because I realize I have played every one of these parts but now I realize that for a little while I gave them somebody to compare themselves to and say, "At least I'm not that bad." I also realized that one thing I risk if I do sober up is the "friendship" of some people because then they may look at me and no longer feel comfortable with themselves. That will be their loss, not mine.
So I left the party the same way I came in, with head held high and a smile on my face and a big hug from the hostess. Then I went to watch the moonrise with my friends, who also drank the "good" stuff while I drank Diet Coke. They didn't notice and they didn't care.