SFAQ

How to help?

2006-08-24T04:56:00.000-07:00

A request from an anxious father in Asheville, NC. Can you help my daughter? Actually he said can you "consult" with my daughter like I was a professional of some kind . . . I said yes. She called, timid and far too polite for a bottoming-out crack addict. Three conversations later, I know her only a little bit, but of course I know her intimately because she is me. L'addicte, c'est moi. We share so many qualities (curiosity, insecurity, passion, terror, openhearted love, utterly shut down fear), as I do with everyone in every meeting room I've been in in the country and the world in the past 20 years. Bob quit smoking two weeks ago and went to a smokenders type series of six classes (two to go I think). While he attends in good faith he was not interested in sharing phone numbers with others, when asked. Someone said, but what about when you have a craving? He said the last thing I'll want at that time is to talk to someone. Made me smile.

Sponsoring from afar is not easy. I did tell this young woman to get a local sponsor and go to meetings. Right away. She doesn't like meetings, and doesn't think she needs them. I understand because as a drug addict she's mostly been exposed to NA and there's so much less long-term sobriety in NA. I went there for a while because I needed the gut level honesty I find in NA, but I always fall back gratefully into the arms of AA where I am so much more at home. I recommended that she go to AA, to put herself in the light, because her mind is very dark right now and the only relief feels like using. How incredibly hard it is to get sober. Those first few weeks when your last high is so recent . . . being in all the pain and shame of your "bottom" and totally unanesthetized. At least the third circle of hell. I shudder with relief to have gotten through it myself. Twice. I know she can too but still worry about how I can best help. Experience, strength and hope. It's all so simple, and I make it so complex.

A great day ahead.

What is SFAQ?

2006-08-21T09:55:00.000-07:00

It stands for Sobriety FAQ. Over many years and many miles on the path, I've accumulated some wisdom (all borrowed, most gently used) that I think might be of use to others.
Any ideas of questions that should appear? Send them in. This is a co-creation.

SFAQ List
What is sobriety?
Why would I want it?
Am I an addict? (only addicts tend to ask themselves that question).
What are the steps?
What is a sponsor?
How does it work? Fine, thanks.
Do I have to go to meetings? Yes. Go until you want to go.
Can I have champagne at my wedding? No. But you won't miss it.
What are the traditions?
Do I have to believe in God? Absolutely not. But keep an open mind in all matters spiritual. There's a lot more going on than meets the eye.

That's a good start and I'll jump right in.

What is sobriety? Sobriety is a way to live. It's a lifelong journey of making choices in each moment that bring peace and joy and learning. It requires consciousness, connection and balance, three things that are anathema to the active addict. It's fun. I like it so much that I don't wish I were not an addict. More on that later.

Why would I want it?

Am I an addict? People who are not addicts are not preoccupied with that question, ever. People who are addicts and ask that question fervently want the answer to be no. Are you making choices in your life that you would recommend to others? Do you feel like you're living the life you were born to live? If not, why not? What's getting in the way? Think about that and we'll talk.

Nose Job Gym Class

2006-08-20T03:12:00.000-07:00

Okay, I'm a Jew and I loved Not Chosen Just Posin's JAP workout post. I eschewed adding my thoughts to the cacophony of commentary littering his website (also I haven't figured out yet how to comment on someone else's blog). Here's what I would have said though. Four words. Nose Job Gym Class. Many years ago when I was in high school, an apprentice JAP in a small Jewish town on the left bank of Long Gisland, a traditional rite of passage was the nose job. Structurally fortunate, I did not require one, but I was in the minority (even then). And when the recipients of these nose jobs brought their broken and healed, newly pert, appendages back to high school, they couldn't possibly engage in contact sports. So we had a special gym class for them. I kid you not. I think they did sport knitting or something. I only know I didn't get to do it, I was forced to humiliate myself playing basketball or dodge ball or whatever barbarian activity was underway. Nose Job Gym Class. I haven't thought of that in years.

Lives of noisy desperation

2006-08-20T03:06:00.000-07:00

On the one hand I'm delighted with my new, free blogger account. So simple--I went from hmmm maybe I'll write one to writing one in a scant few minutes. With dialup, no less. That's good because I have important things to tell you. On the other hand, I am appalled at how easy it is to set up an account. I don't think the rest of you (most of you, that is, especially the ones that can't afford to pay for an account) have a whole lot to say that I need to hear. I know that sounds harsh. Please don't take it personally.

God grant me . . .

2006-08-19T14:23:00.000-07:00

A chipmunk bit me today, hard. I was saving his life, damnit, but he was terrified so I can't blame him. My cat brought him in, another of a series of unwelcome tributes. I found him on the bathroom floor, twisted and bloody, and closed the door between him and Breeze so he could die in peace. Imagine my surprise when the chipmunk arose, like Lazarus, and flew around the bathroom trying to escape when I returned, half an hour later, to dispose of his small furry corpse.

The little fellow was only pretending to be bent and bloody. He was in fact, shockingly hale (it was mud, not blood). I spoke soothingly, acknowledging his fear (it works in therapy groups) and attempted to apprehend him with a shower cap, which has been effective in the past. I was unsuccessful until finally he leapt onto the toilet and fell in the bowl. I reached in and grasped him with both hands around his shaking body and ran downstairs towards the open back door. It was during this frantic run that he sank his teeth into my left index finger. I shrieked and my shorts fell off. (There is no real connection between these two events. The shorts are really beat up and have no elastic left so they fell off as I ran to the woods with my prize.) I liberated the chipmunk at the edge of the woods and advised him to run like hell.

Bob snickered at my fanny disappearing down the steps.

I locked the cats in for the rest of the day.

Here is the central issue. The wisdom to the know the difference. Grant me the serenity to let nature take its course. Cats chase mice and other rodents, including cute ones. The courage to change things I can; a small creature was in fear and I was able to help. And the wisdom to know the difference. I haven’t figured that out yet.

Et voila!

2006-08-19T07:52:00.000-07:00

Here goes.