Another Harried, Hurried, Happy Saturday

Day 223 of Sobriety

Here I am at 6:30 am, up and running.  This morning is The Funky Market Bazaar and I'll be rushing around in about 10 minutes trying to get things done.  The elves have been holding a monthly raffle to raise money for the Christmas toy drive next year and I still have posters to make describing this month's prizes and a survey to type up and print out to gather interest in a spa day to be held at my house as yet another attempt to pick the pockets of the good people of our village in order to buy toys.

I should have got all this done last night but once again there was an impromptu dinner invite, issued by us, to meet with friends at our favorite watering hole/fish restaurant.  Our friends responded in the affirmative, they had some new clients that had just bought a house down here and they wanted us to meet them.  As usual, the dinner and fun went on longer than expected.  As a matter of fact, we weren't ready to call it a night, so the bunch of us ended up back here at my house for more fun.

On top of this, I wasted precious time yesterday afternoon ruining two out of three batches of peanut brittle that we're supposed to be selling at the market this morning because the other elf that was helping me and I got too busy yakking instead of paying attention to the candy thermometer.  Obviously, candy making should be a solo project for me, luckily I had made three batches earlier on my own.

So this morning I'm feeling put upon and hassled.  And I'm acting like a martyr, which I hate. I  personally feel the only tolerable kind of martyrs are the dead ones. So I'm trying to keep the eyes rolled heavenward, beset and beleaguered look wiped off my face.

Because today I'm damn thankful that:
1. Once again people feel that they can rely on me for whatever needs to be done.
2. Once again, my friends are at ease sharing new friendships with me.
3. Once again, my house and my life are places I am proud of and can welcome others into.

My 10 minutes are way up.





I am

Effervescence

effervesce

2.to issue forth in bubbles.

3.to show enthusiasm, excitement, liveliness, etc..

Day 222 of Sobriety (Hey, Room 222 was one of the Friday night line up of my favorite shows when I was about 7 years old.  The line-up was The Brady Bunch, The Partridge Family, Room 222, and then Love American Style.  God, I'm old!).

I almost groaned out loud when my brother-in-law asked if we wanted to go snorkeling in Akumal the next morning.  Didn't he know I had lived on a boat for twelve years?  Didn't he know I had seen my fill of fish and underwater things? Truth be told, I'd never really "got" the allure of snorkeling, it was just one more activity that took time away from the one activity I enjoyed the most. Drinking.

 I didn't groan. 

You see, I was on my best behavior after the last disastrous visit I had with my brothers-in-law a year ago at Carnaval in Merida.  During that visit I spent the better part of two days being moved around by my brothers-in-law and the cap'n in a catatonic drunken stupor amidst the revelers, the lesser part was spent passed out behind closed shutters in the hotel room as the cacophonous parade passed by down below.

 So now I just gritted my teeth and made myself smile and say, "I can't wait."

Simply put, it was glorious.  I floated languorously  above the rainbow fish cavorting below.  It was effortless and, for the first time, I experienced the peace that I had heard others expound on for years in regard to the underwater world.  For the first time, I wasn't weighted down by the edge of panic brought about by a hangover, or pulled by the thought of a cocktail waiting for me in the boat or at the bar.

My brothers-in-law laughed when I said, "I think that is the first time I've ever snorkeled without a hangover. I want to try it again.  I want to try everything over again."

I was effervescent.

Oh, the first definition of effervescent? It is: 1. To emit small bubbles of gas, as a carbonated or fermenting liquid.

"Perdon mi!"

Happy Sober Easter II: The Sequel

 Ninas first Easter egg hunt.

I lied on my Weight Watchers list. I put down that I had 3 eggs... but they were Cadbury chocolate eggs. ~Caroline Rhea

Day 218 of Sobriety

I looked back to see where I was on this journey last Easter, I was on Day 9 of one of my abs stints, so this is my second Easter in a row that I have been sober.  Hallelujah!  I am so thankful for that. I don't usually blog about my gratitude list but I do one daily, sometimes more than once a day, sometimes all day long.  Easter morning seems like an especially good time to be grateful.

Today I am grateful for:
God's love that didn't and won't forsake me and abides forevermore.
My love of self that perseveres through all the trials and tribulations.
The love of  others, here and in heaven, which sustains me.
My love for others which compels me.
Boundless love that renews and refills each day with hope, forgiveness, and joy.

I think I'll include chocolate covered almonds in pretty Easter pinks and yellows and blues for good measure.

Felices Pascuas, Mi Amigos!

Coming Clean: Part II...finally

It is the hour to rend thy chains,
The blossom time of souls. ~Katherine Lee Bates

Day 216 of Sobriety

So here is what happened.  The day before my birthday, the cap'n and I were sitting in a little courtyard restaurant in Merida for lunch.  Because I wanted to celebrate I ordered a daquiri limon sin alcohol con ron seperado. In other words in English, I ordered a daquiri without alcohol but asked the waiter to go ahead and serve the rum separate on the side.  I did this because they are going to charge me the same with or without rum and someone at the table will always drink that shot of rum. (Yes, it's usually the cap'n and yes, I know how to spell E-N-A-B-L-E-R).  Anyway, the drink came and I did what I usually do, I sniffed the drink. I've ordered a daquiri in this same manner before and the waiters or bartender, who just can't comprendo why someone would want a daquiri without alcohol, have still delivered to me a benign looking frosty drink loaded with enough rum to make my eyes water. In the past, I have always promptly returned these drinks back to the bartender and ordered a Coke-lite.  This time the sniff test had a negative result.

But when I tasted the drink, it tasted...uh, funny.  It didn't taste like rum but it didn't taste like a straight lemonade (which is what I should have ordered) either.  Was it possible, after all my safeguards, the bartender had still snuck in a little hooch? The feeling of elation that swept through me was intense, and I'm not exaggerating.  In a blink of an eye, I rationalized that I had done my part and, if this drink happened to have alcohol in it, I was absolved of any wrongdoing. And it was my birthday. And I was turning 50.  And that was special enough for a little transgression.  And no one would know.  And, after all, I had done my part.  And maybe I would just allow myself this one day to drink.

And instead of sending that drink back, I gulped it down and motioned for the waiter to bring me another.

Alas, the drinks had no alcohol in them and the only buzz I got was a sugar buzz and as we walked back to our hotel I had that sluggish, indolent feeling that too much food and sun gives you.  But those two bogus drinks had lit a fuse in my brain and I had all but made up my mind to give myself a  special 50th birthday gift.  I was going to let myself drink.  Just a glass of wine, okay maybe two.  Just for that one day.  

 I know. I know.  Cringe!

We got to our room at the hotel and I turned the key in the lock.

"Surprise!"

Our friends, Barbara and Jack, had driven up to share my birthday with me. 

Poof! There went the insidious birthday present I had planned for myself.  Because, while I knew the cap'n wouldn't support me in my plan to allow myself to drink, he wouldn't tell on me. He'd keep my secret.  But all my plans and schemes were now laid to ruin because my friends had showed up and I have too much pride to let them see me throw away everything I had worked for and they had supported me through. And they would tell everybody else.

Thank you, God!

That cliff is still right in front of me.  I'm not standing at the edge looking over anymore but I'm just a hop and a skip away.  I need to keep backing up. 

This week I am laboring to dig my well of compassion for others a little deeper, I still suffer the sin of condescension and I know when I get to thinking of myself being above others' transgressions my Co-worker is fixin' to give me a smack-down.  I need to remind myself that when I was considering that duplicitous birthday gift, I knew very well that booze isn't a gift that keeps on giving, instead it keeps on taking and taking and taking...and you never know what it's going to leave you with.

So today I'm just out there doing my best to keep on digging and backing up.

Timeshare For Sale

 It's spring fever. That is what the name of it is. And when you've got it, you want - oh, you don't quite know what it is you do want, but it just fairly makes your heart ache, you want it so! ~Mark Twain

Day 211  (7 months) of Sobriety

When we first came to Mexico we got caught in one of those time-share traps, you know the kind where you don’t realize what you’ve stumbled into until they have you locked in a room with some ferocious salesman with spittle flying from his zealous lips as he tries to sell you on a fractional non-ownership of some condo in a resort full of legions of rapidly reproducing condos, all with the same DNA. (If I was still drinking I’d never be able to find my way home after happy hour.)  You keep trying to escape but he just keeps going and going and going until you finally succumb to Stockholm Syndrome and sign on the dotted line.  And all you wanted was the free breakfast buffet.

Drinking was like that for me, I kept walking through doors trying to find the escape route but I’d just end up in another room with another bottle doing its damnedest to convince me to stay.

Last night I went out with a whole bunch of mi amigos and had a blast.  I won’t bore you with the details but we ended the night at a carnival in the square of our little village where we boarded the “Disco Bus”, a double decker disco thumping, petrol wheezing jalopy that careened through the streets as we ducked low lying high-wires and tree branches, laughing our asses off the whole way.  Then we decided to try our skill at the bumper cars and loteria.  Finally at midnight we made our way back through the streets to our cars, all of us exclaiming of the fun we’d had, the unique and wonderful place that we had found ourselves and each other in, and how much brighter the stars were shining down on us last night.  They were drinking and I was not and not once during our whole evening did I envy them, not once did I think, “A drink sure would make this more enjoyable.”  I’ve finally made it to that point. 

Hallelujah!

This morning I awoke rejuvenated, not even missing that hour the time change stole from me last night, and as usual I walked into the village for my conchinita pibil and fresh squoze OJ.  My friends are probably not appreciating the fun we had last night as much this morning, they still have a timeshare with booze and it still claims its dues.  I don’t begrudge them that.  I enjoyed the same timeshare for a long time and thought the price I paid was fair, but then booze’s HOA started extracting more and more maintenance tolls from me and all of my Red and Diamond and Platinum Plastic (as in credit card) weeks turned to blackout dates.

So today my timeshare is up for sale, I don’t have time to share with booze anymore.  I’m too busy enjoying full ownership of my life.

P.S.  I know I said I would write Part II of Coming Clean but my pink cloud showed back up for a revisit and I’m lovin’ life too much right now.

And Glory Hallelujah it’s fixin’ to rain!!

Oh and, 

ROCK CHALK JAYHAWKS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Coming Clean: Part I

 Men are not punished for their sins, but by them. ~Elbert Hubbard

Day 207 of Sobriety

I promised I would always be honest and I have a confession to make.  You might have noticed that lately instead of putting “Day # of Abs” up there on my day count I sneakily changed it to “Day # of Sobriety” and that is because I have drank in those 207 days.  Early in my sobriety, I think it was  in the first two or three months, I took four little sips of beer at four separate times.  Gasp!  It was early in my sobriety and I can remember that the days when I chose to imbibe in my four little sips were sunny and bright and warm, the kind of days for which cold bracing beer is just made and I just wanted that taste on my tongue for just an instant.  And that was it, that was enough.  I didn’t confess it to ya’ll at the time because I truly didn’t think it was significant, but then I read a post from a fellow traveler on this journey and he had taken a toast at a friend’s funeral and he was feeling very torn about whether to reset his sobriety date in AA and he was questioning the other members of the message board about what he should do.  From the responses he received, I realized that even though I might not attach much significance to those 4 little sips of beer, others do, and because I want others to recognize my sincerity and integrity and commitment in this vital venture of mine, I changed my Days to Sobriety Days instead of Abs Days and more importantly I quit taking sips of beer, or anything else.

So why did I not think those 4 little sips were significant?  Because at none of the times that I took those sips did I believe that I was jeopardizing my sobriety. I didn’t and still don’t, believe that any one of those 4 little sips would send me spiraling into a relapse.  And they didn’t. The Catholic religion believes that the difference between a venial and a mortal sin is that when you choose to commit a mortal sin you willingly and knowingly turn your back on God.  Those little sips were venial sins against my sobriety, I didn’t turn my back on sobriety.  I believe it’s the significance that we place on things that give them their power.  If I had believed those four little sips would trigger a relapse, they could have.  If I believed cooking with wine could steal my control and have me pouring a glass while I cook, it might.  If I believed that if I continue to go to bars and parties, I would eventually, inevitably drink, I probably would.  But those are the beliefs of others, they are not mine, and that is why I have not joined with some of the established establishments in this field, because if I started attaching the importance they feel I should on some things that I don’t think are all that important, I may start to believe, as they do, that I am destined to fail. And I will.

Where do I draw the line?  What is the difference between a sip and a glass or two of wine if I don’t attach any significance to them?  I don’t know, I just know for me there is a difference. Why, if they were not significant, did I wait so long to write abou tmy 4 little sips?  My surface response is that I always thought there were more important things to write about, but I’m sure down deep under the surface there is some avoidance of the issue involved.  I don’t want to spend a whole lot of effort justifying those 4 little sips because, then again, I’m attaching too much significance to them and giving them too much power.  

You might have noticed this blog is just Part 1.  There was an incidence during my birthday weekend that I feel jeopardized my sobriety more than those 4 little sips but in my commitment to be more concise, I’ll save that for my next blog. 

So today I’m just out there doing my best to avoid the near occasions of sin, no matter the significance or insignificance attached.

P.S. Sorry for the confusion to the early readers of this post, I forgot to put my title in the title slot. Lo siento.

P.P.S.  I just read through this post again and noticed all the errors that were there.  It's kind of a confusing post anyway and it was even more so before I corrected it.  My excuse is that we had to run into Merida early this morning and I wanted to post this before I left, knowing that by the time I got home I would have brain drain.  Instead, my brain hadn't had it's fill of caffeine or daylight yet and was still on snooze mode.  Readers of  the earlier non-improved post probably thought I'd started sipping again. Ja Ja Ja

You've Come A Long Way, Baby

This is my post from last year about this time. All I can say about the comparison between my two posts today is WOW!

Tuesday, March 29, 2011

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.