After all that deep work....

I've spent the last year and a half dealing with some pretty deep shit. It's been frightening and fulfilling but I feel like the time has come to enjoy some of my more shallow interests. And so, I now, unabashedly state my love of Haute Couture, the luxury goods industry, and above all, really pretty shoes!!! There I've said it! It feels liberating to not hide behind a mask of political correctness and social conscience in order to seem "deep" and "aware" and self-righteous. It's not that I don't care, it's just...well...sometimes I just want pretty. And that's okay

J.

Restless, irritable and discontent...

My body always knows when things aren't right. It knows long before my brain even suspects. When I sleep too much, when I'm in pain, have a headache or feel like my stomach is in knots chances are it's not the flu but the onset of a bout of depression or just my body telling me that I'm not right with myself or my Higher Power. I've allowed something to get in between me and the Gods and my gut is trying to warn me that if I keep doing so, disaster will strike.

Last week I came closer to drinking than I have since getting sober. It's no one's fault but my own. I let my guard down, and wasn't being honest with myself or those around me. Of course I've thought about drinking over the last year, but this was different. I had a plan! I was going to get to that booze when no one was looking and I would have just one! One couldn't hurt anything, right? I would stop at one, I knew how to stop, I'd done it before so this time I would be okay. And NO ONE would ever have to know about it! Lies, lies, lies. I've told myself these things a thousand times before, but they've never come true in the past and they won't come true now.

I scared myself more that night then I think I've been in years. I've felt that fear before, since getting sober, when I have the "drunk dreams". Dreams of drinking that are so vivid and real that I wake up in a panic, full of shame and scared to death that I've fucked everything up. Many drunks have these dreams after getting sober, I think it's our Higher Power making sure that we remember what's at stake. But to scare myself like that while awake is a hundred times worse. The only thing that could trump it would be to actually drink. One sip, that's all it would take, just one sip. It's ridiculous and humiliating and terrifying to think about.

"One drink is too many and a hundred, not enough." "One drink, one drunk." These are slogans that I've never paid much attention to, I was more keen on repeating "First things first" or "Let go and let God" but fourteen months into my sobriety I need to go back to the very beginning, remember the despair, the filth and emptiness that drinking brought me. Now is not the time to rest on my laurels but to redouble my efforts, be honest, work my program harder than ever and hold that connection with my Higher Power above all else on Earth. "You've got to give it away to keep it" the slogan goes, and the Gods know I was getting pretty damn selfish.


J.

Happy Anniversary to Me?

So today, or I guess yesterday, was my one year anniversary. Three hundred and sixty five days without a drink or drug and I gotta say, at this moment, it doesn't feel as good as I would have thought. I find myself overcome by fear, guilt, confusion, and overall yuckiness. On my three hundred and sixty fourth day I found myself standing in my old apartment, face to face with the man I used to live with, and I can't even find words to describe what that felt like.

He had been drinking, the apartment, with a few exception, was just as I had left it thirteen months ago. Messy, and chaotic. The sign above the bathroom sink, warning "Do not use sink" was still there! For about a month before I left the U bend was removed and a bucket placed under the drain that would on occasion be emptied into the bathtub. This is the solution two drunks come up with for a clogged drain. The bucket wasn't there but the sign still was. It was heartbreaking seeing someone I was once so close to, that I care for so much, struggling through life. Granted he has a lot on his plate, deaths in the family and a Mom going through chemo, but he has no solution for his problems, no tools to deal with difficult situation and emotions. And I am powerless to help.

I felt so out of place, I finally realized how much I had really changed over the last year and it makes me feel sad and guilty and undeserving. A part of me wanted to stay there and slide comfortably back into that chaos. It was the way he looked at me, kissed me on the cheek, hugged me long and hard and even reached out to stroke my hair a couple of times that hurt so much. But when he held me, I didn't feel like I fit the way I used to, that there was a greater barrier between us now than there was when I decided to leave over a year ago. But I guess that's how it goes, you can never go back as much as you may wish you could, and I did. I guess I always had some hope that things would work out and that one day we would reunite and live a happy, healthy and sober life together. But that is just a delusion, a fantasy that I use to keep me company and protect me from having to deal with the pain of it really being over. Today, tonight, I'm feeling that pain, deeply and a little frantically, but I'm allowing myself to feel it. As easy as it would be to find something, booze, pills, sex, to numb myself against this reality, I choose instead to sit here and cry and spill my guts out onto a computer screen.

Guilt has been knotting in my stomach for the last couple of days. Guilt that I can't fix things for him and guilt that my life is going well, I feel undeserving of the blessings I've worked for and received over the last year. What right do I have to be content, to have fun, to smile and sleep well at night? Am I not that same despicable girl that I was for twenty two years? Shouldn't I still be paying for my sins instead of enjoying my freedom and comfort? I worry that she'll be back, that it's only a matter of time and circumstance before the real me comes out again. I find myself second guessing every move, every thought in fear that the addict in me is starting to take over again. "Fear or Faith?" right? I spent my entire life living in fear and I can't go back to that, it would be suicide, and I don't mean that figuratively. So faith must win out, and now I have the tools and support to make sure that happens. If I stay honest, if I ask for help, I never have to meet that girl again. If I stay honest, and ask for help then I can be the good example that one day may inspire him to do the same.


J.

Perspective

On the door of my refrigerator I have the heartbreaking, Pulitzer Prize winning photograph of a helpless and tiny little girl being stalked by a vulture that waits patiently for her to die. The image was captured by Kevin Carter during the famine in Sudan in 1994. Mr Carter later committed suicide.

Many people who see this image so prominently displayed in my kitchen question my sanity. They wonder how I could not be made depressed, angry or bitter by seeing this suffering everyday. But for me this is a constant reminder that anything in my life is bearable. I am reminded to be grateful for what I have. In the scheme of the North American dream I lead a pretty humble life, but when I look beyond my neighbourhood I realize how truly blessed and abundant my life is. I have never known hunger, I have never been without a roof over my head, I have always had people around who love me.

And yet, for many years I felt that my life was the worst thing that ever happened to me. I wallowed in self-pity, fear and doubt. I did everything I could to keep the bad times rolling. Felt that the world had handed me a raw deal and that I deserved more than I was getting. That if others only knew how horrible my life was they would feel moved to pity me. "The Victim" was my favourite role, it allowed me to drink and use and blame and enjoy the twisted attention I got from those around me who fed into my delusions in order to feed their own. I used the tragedies of the world to perpetuate this depression. The world and all it's people, especially me, sucked so what was the point? What was the point?

When I was that fucked up an image like this would have sent me into a downward spiral of despair. I was too sensitive to see such things, all suffering became my own. I couldn't distinguish between my own anguish and those of others. The universe was made up of swirling waves of pain and I was awash in it. In a strange way, I liked it. Pain and suffering held a romantic mystique for me, I wanted to be among those tortured artistic souls who created the works I so admired. Of course the fact that most of those tortured souls ended up dead before their time didn't dissuade me, to die a beautiful, tragic and creative death was appealing.

But the day came, lying in bed, hungover and empty and wishing the earth would just open up and swallow me so I wouldn't have to suffer through another day of being me that I realized that death and suffering are never beautiful, never romantic and my suffering was entirely of my own making. I had no outside force or person to blame, I was not the victim but the perpetrator. Sure bad things had happened to me, but it was me who allowed them to take over my identity. So I was date raped in my teens, but how many women have suffered the degradation of gang rape during times of war, seen their daughters brutalized before their eyes? How many people have suffered the humiliation of repeated sexual abuse at the hands of someone they are meant to trust? Suddenly this thing that happened to me in a bizarre fifteen minutes of my life doesn't seem worthy of years of shame and guilt. So I was beaten by someone who was supposed to love me, but how many victims of torture are there in the world at this very minute, how many spouses and children are murdered by a "loved one"? So another relationship failed, but how many men, women and children are lost, abandoned and alone, without someone to talk to let along hug them or even look them in the eye and smile, one human being to another?

When reality is not blurred by my ego, when I can place my suffering in context, realize that I am just a small part of the whole, and be honest and humble enough to realize what real suffering is, I can allow myself to feel blessed for the life that I have. This little girl, starving to death on my fridge every morning when I make breakfast makes me mindful of what I have and encourages me to give away what I have been given. I may not be able to solve the world's problems but when a chance is presented to be of service to someone in pain, someone alone, or someone in need I now have the ability to not just uselessly empathize but to do something about it, even if it's just to smile, one human being to another.


J.

Evening Prayers

In my program of recovery I seek to build a connection between myself and a power greater than myself. To feel the Divine and to follow the path laid out for me in this life. This includes regular prayer and meditation, morning and night and throughout the day. This is my evening prayer, said on my knees (with the help of my meditation cushion) before my "altar" to Kuan Yin, The Buddha and Thich Nhat Hanh. It is an amalgam of Christian, Buddhist, AA and original prayers put together in a way that makes sense to me.


Goddess, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change
the courage to change the things I can and
the wisdom to know the difference.

Goddess, I offer myself to you, to build with and to do with as you will.
Release me from the bondage of self, that I may better do you will.
Take from me my difficulties that victory over them may bear witness
to those I would help of your beauty, your love and your way of life.

Goddess, I am now ready that you should have all of me, good and bad.
Take from me every single defect of character that stands in the way of my usefulness
and grant me courage as I go out from her to do your will.

Lord make me an instrument of your peace, where there is hatred let me sow love;
where there is injury, pardon; where there is doubt, faith, where there is despair, hope;
where there is darkness, light; where there is sadness, joy.

Divine Master grant that I may not so much seek to be consoled as to console;
to be understood as to understand; to be loved as to love.
For it is in giving that we receive, it is in pardoning that we are pardoned,
and it is in dying that we are born to eternal life.

Teacher, I take refuge in the Three Jewels, the Buddha, the Dharma, and the Sangha.
I entrust myself to the Earth and the Earth entrust herself to me.
I entrust myself to the Buddha and the Buddha entrusts herself to me.

Goddess, I offer (name of someone I care for and worry about) to you to build with and to do with as you will, to care for as I cannot.

Goddess, I pray for (name of someone I find difficult), that they may find peace, prosperity and happiness.

Thank you for today, for the love that surrounds me, the roof over my head and the food in my belly. Watch over all those I love and all those I've never met.

Your will, not mine, be done.

(while kowtowing)
I have arrived, I am home, my destination is in each step.

Goddess take from me my obsession for alcohol, pills, nicotine, and sex,
that stand in the way of my usefulness and degrade this body that you
have so lovingly given me.

Help me to carry your message with honesty, loving-kindness and compassion.

May I do your will always.


J.

Don't Take Anything Personally

When conditions are right, things will manifest, when conditions are not right, they won't. This is a beautiful Buddhist idea that I need to remember. I'm the type of person that takes things too personally, be it rejection or praise. My ego is forever trying to twist everything in my life to feed itself.

When something doesn't work out, even if I really don't care about it, my pride and self esteem are bruised, self pity and resentment rear their ugly heads and my mind races with thoughts and feelings that seem beyond my control. Everything should go my way, everyone should like me, everyone should be at my beck and call, work on my time table, and do what I think is best for them, I mean obviously!! But, if I'm honest and if I look at situations with new eyes and see them for what they really are, then all of this ego driven crap is nothing but bullshit conjured up by my mind to make myself feel needed, wanted and valid. And no one can do that for me. For me to feel like a valid human being, all I need is faith in myself and faith in something bigger than little old me, faith that where I am is exactly where I should be. And intellectually I know that's true, but to feel it in my heart and my gut is a little trickier. Practice is needed. And I do practice, everyday, letting go of things that I feel should affect me, letting go of my expectations of others, accepting things as they are at this very moment. Practice and progress not perfection is the order of the day.

As for praise, well...it sometimes feels like poison to me. One nice word or a compliment sets off this opposing mindset in which I am the best and brightest thing under the stars. Which, as we all know, is simply not true, in fact so very far from the truth that...well I can't even think of how to describe how off the mark that is. Classic alcoholic thinking! When I was using I thrived off compliments, having no self esteem or respect I needed anything to make me feel better about myself. And of course in the circles I ran in, compliments came in the form of propositions, of which I greedily accepted. My self worth was based in some one's desire to fuck me. Fuck me, not love me, not respect me, not even like me, but just to use me as I used them. Mutual ego stroking with nothing to show for it but morning after shame and fear. But I'm not using anymore and now begins the difficult task of learning how to take praise for what it is. One persons observation at any given moment, or one persons search for reciprocal ego boosting. Compliments say more about the other person than they do about me. It is a glimpse of what the giver thinks is important (looks, clothes, brains, humour) and their personal likes and dislikes. Really I don't factor into it much at all! I am just me, as the Gods made me and allow me to be, nothing more, nothing less. If someone likes it, or dislikes it, that's up to them.

Other people will reflect their aesthetics, their bitterness, their fears onto me and I must recognize them for what they are. Be it a compliment or a rejection or an angry word, I cannot take it personally. Rejection is just the Gods telling me that something is not right for me at this time, genuine praise is the Gods telling me that they are.


J.

Smirking like a schoolgirl.

Last night an attractive young man asked me out for coffee. Of course I was forced to decline, since"appropriateness" is my new law. Which sucks, in a way, because he really is quite attractive, I've thought of him, you know, that way...and I've been awful lonely lately, you know, that way...but I am not that girl anymore. I am not the girl who uses people to ease her own loneliness and self pity. Now I would be lying to say that this has been some magical transformation, that overnight all lusts and desires have left me, because they're still in there, but some days they are rowdier than others. But I am working on controlling them. A deep breathe, a quick prayer, or just walking away when the urge to misbehave arises.

Now last night is the first time in a long, long, time that anyone has noticed me or wanted to spend time with me, and I gotta say that's good for a girl's self esteem! I nicely replied that I couldn't go, that it was nothing personal but merely policy and then I fought back a schoolgirl grin that was threatening to erupt all over my face. Shortly after I said good bye and started to walk home alone finally allowing the smirk and the accompanying giggle to come out. And did it ever! As if I was back in middle school, I raced to my best friend (and neighbour's) door dying to share my story, "Somebody asked me out!" was all I could say through my grin. I was almost bouncing I was so elated. They say that when a person stops using drugs and alcohol they revert back to the emotional age at which they started using. Yep, sounds about right. Here am I acting like a fourteen year old who gets to be lab partners with the cutest boy in school! It's sort of cool, now that I consider it. When I was fourteen I was so numb and jaded that I didn't experienced these feelings, it's almost as if the gods have giving me a chance to re-live what I missed. It's kinda fun actually. Unlike when I was a teenager, now I have the words to describe these feelings and the privacy to deal with them on my own, wink, wink, nudge, nudge.

Being single ain't as bad I always thought it would be. I don't need to rush into a relationship for fear of being alone. I have a lovely little apartment, a beautiful cat to keep me company, great friends, good family, and an active and ever-evolving fantasy life to take the edge off. What more could a modern girl need?

Well, maybe a good, long, hard kiss..... but I can be patient.

J.

Right Speech II

"Love and tolerance of others is our code" is a favourite quote of mine. It's from the book Alcoholic Anonymous, aka "The Big Book" by Bill W, but I feel that it's a message that anyone can learn from and strive for. So often our words, especially our humour, can be hurtful without our being aware that harm has been done. Tonight I am struggling with some "righteous anger" over remarks made, in a large group, that hurt a friend of mine. What the comment was really doesn't matter, what matters is what I do with the reaction they have brought out in me. Now, I could get angry, fight back, use my well honed sarcasm and down right bitchiness but as much as I would feel good in the moment, afterward I know that I would regret it. I would feel that I had stooped to their level and possible embarrassed my friend further in the process. I would then have to deal with my own guilt and that is not something I can afford, having a rather deep seated guilt complex already in place!

Love and tolerance of others is a two way street. I cannot sit back and demand that the world is accepting of my faults and mis-steps if I am not willing to return that same courtesy. So how to proceed? I can take the energy that I would have expended getting revenge and use it instead to support my friend. I can take a step back form the situation to evaluate what is at the root of my anger ( Is this something I secretly think too, but don't want to admit? Am I feeling insecure about who I am and how the comment affects my ego?). I can think about why that particular person made that particular statement; are they hurting, are they scared, are they trying to impress the rest of the group? When I take a second to consider the possible motives and feelings of the person making the hurtful joke, my anger looses some of it's edge. Perhaps they are scared, hurt, having a bad day, or feeling " on the spot".

Of course, considering these things doesn't mean that I support them, or excuse them, it simply puts me in a better frame of mind to deal with the situation. Gives me a chance to discern the best way to proceed. Perhaps I should say something right then, perhaps a private word later, maybe lead by example and avoid making potentially offense jokes myself (something I tend to do on occasion), or simply turn my attention and love toward my injured friend. My "bouncer ego" as I like to call it, wants to attack, wants to protect the injured and the underdog, but in reality I am not always, if fact rarely, responsible for doing that. If I spend my time and energy constantly protecting those I think are vulnerable, am I not, in a covert way, disrespecting them too. Do I not run the risk of incurring their resentment, or contributing to their vulnerability by not allowing them to stand up for themselves? Ahhh, the never ending ifs, ands or buts!!

I'm not sure where I'm going with this tonight, and so I'll end here. Love and tolerance is an ideal that I am trying to live up to, luckily I will allow myself to strive toward progress and not demand perfection.


J.

Hamilton Writer's fun and games!

Words chosen randomly: Dive, springtime face, comfortable, and "look what I can do!"

Result:

"Look what I can do!" the chick at the end of the bar slurred excitedly, popping a cherry stem into her mouth. I settled further into my comfortable booth at the back of the dive. My favourite spot for watching the drunks at play. "It's better than television", I tell people. The girl's face twists and contorts unnoticed by her boyfriend whose eyes are glued to the game on the big screen TV. The springtime sun blares into the dim and smoky room as the heavy door swings open and a man with the face of a boxer who's taken too many hits swaggers in. His nose at an awkward angle and his left eye drooping beneath a heavy lid, his ill-fitting suit looks like it came out of a dumpster but he holds his head high like a man who doesn't realize he's fallen on hard times.


J.

Talkin' with Christians

The Vietnamese monk Thich Nhat Hahn is an energetic supporter of inter-faith dialogue and has written articles and books about what Christians and Buddhists can learn from each other, it is because of his openness to the sharing of ideas that I have just returned from a discussion group arranged by a local Anglican church. If you had told me a year ago that I would be sitting in a coffee house with a Professor of Evangelism and a Priest, chatting and eating brownies, well, forget about it! But the truth is I actually had a wonderful time, even through my extreme case of jitters. The topic of discussion, culled from questions the church received from the public at large, was meant to be "Why is God such a jerk?". But since there were only four of us (myself, the Professor, the Priest and an extremely well-travelled gentleman of Muslim heritage thinking of converting) talk ranged from the firm belief in Jesus as a saviour of mankind, Judgement Day, parables about belief in the unseen, St Francis of Assisi and just why is that repulsive image of Jesus all bloody and broken representative of faith. Needless to say that last one was mine. While, as is typical of spiritual discussion, there were no firm answers to be had but just having the chance to ask the questions and listen to others share there experience was more than enough. I walked home with a new respect for the followers of Christ.

Having only seen (or only allowed myself to see) the fanaticism of Christianity and having painted all Christians with the same colour of "close minded, prejudice, busy-body, Christ on a Cross red", my ideas seemed firmly set. I didn't like them and couldn't comprehend what the attraction was, other than a sense of superiority and the right to tell others what to do and how to live. Not qualities that I have ever, or will ever find appealing. But these gentlemen had some qualities that I could admire: intelligence, patience, open-mindedness and faith in something bigger than themselves. Granted we didn't talk about gays or abortion, so I won't put my rose coloured glasses on too soon, but they definitely broke the stereotype I had of what it means to be a Christian. And when the professor mentioned how un-religious Jesus was, that he spoke against the organized religions and churches, well that was enough to open my mind to a glimmer of respect and interest in the big JC. I have no problem thinking of Jesus as a spiritual teacher, an example of goodness, enlightenment, service and humility just as the Buddha was, but the idea of him being the only son of God...that's where it all falls apart for me. Approaching him as a Buddha makes it easier for me to take a closer look at the life and teachings of Jesus, though I will always prefer the "Buddy Christ" to the Crucifix.


J.

Right Speech.

I heard someone gossiping this evening and it hurt, deeply. It wasn't about me, or anyone I know, but the anger and judgment that was being expressed hit me like a punch to the gut. In Buddhism there are five precept, like the Christian ten commandments, rules to live by in order to lead an ethical and peaceful life. Refrain from killing, refrain from stealing, refrain from sexual misconduct, refrain from false, harsh and idle speech and refrain from intoxicants that cloud the mind. Seems pretty basic but I learned a valuable lesson this evening on the effect words can have on those who hear them.

I am guilty of having a very foul mouth, swearing just comes naturally, and I've always felt that I had every right to swear if I wanted to. If you don't like it, don't talk to me. Many times I've made my family cringe with the expressions I use for pain, frustration, and even excitement. " Fuck" is my favourite word and I use it liberally and often as well as a few other choice nouns that I won't elaborate on here. I have never placed myself in the listener shoes, never considered that my language could be alienating or just down right offensive to anyone within earshot. Tonight I finally heard with "new ears" that words have power. Something I already knew in theory, and of course people's words have hurt me before, but perhaps because it is easier to care about someone else than for myself, tonight I really felt and reacted to what I was hearing.

Over the last ten months I have gone through some amazing and sometimes scary changes. Leaving behind my old ideas and gaining new ones, learning to think outside of my own little life and to place my faith in something bigger than myself. Perhaps the next item on my personal housecleaning should be to watch what I say. To say what I mean, mean what I say and speak in a voice that carries a message of honesty, inclusion and kindness instead of anger and exclusion. That is the reason we swear, exaggerate, and gossip, isn't it? To make ourselves feel superior, to shock, to rebel against social norms and values, to let others know that we are so cool that we don't give a damn what you think. Fine for a teenager, but at my age, a little sad. If I am put on this Earth to be of service, to be compassionate and loving to all sentient beings, and to live mindfully, than on a most basic level it stands to reason that my speech, the tool I have been given in which to relate to the world around me, needs to be in line with those aims.

Of course I'm going to need a thesaurus, because I just don't know another word that can mean so many things and be used in so many ways.

Ah fudge!
J.

To Marylin

I have a wonderful friend, a poet and an artist, who checks this blog to see if I've come up with anything new. Well, my friend, I'm working on it! And I promise to deliver something, anything, sometime soon. As you know the ideas are forming but like some many aspiring writers I've met, the trick is to stop the wheels spinning and get it down in black and white, damn it! Even these few sentences feel pretty darn good.

Thanks for the push
J.

First things first

Well, I finally made it into that room tonight. I went out for a walk, half intending to stop in at the bar (I left my glasses there on Tuesday night, so I had an excuse!) and instead ended up walking past a AA meeting just about to start! The Gods work in mysterious ways.

Tuesday night was a new all time low in my drinking career. I won't get into details here, but lets just say that it has taken me three days to get over it, well get past it, I'm not "over it". It's haunting me, how low a person can sink in the span of eight hours. So to be in that meeting today, meant something to me. I connected to it on a different level than I ever have before. The people were great, and welcoming, and honest and I appreciated their stories, and their willingness to listen to me. Just listen, not judge, not try to fix, not give advice, just listen and nod in a way that says "I know exactly what you mean...".

There were a few phrases that stuck out for me today: "First things first", "bring the body and eventually the mind will follow", and the most simple, and yet the hardest to achieve "Take it easy." This is how I need to navigate my life, my priority needs to be me, my health and sanity. I cannot try to fit into others ideas of who I should be and how I should behave. Not my partner's, not my parents. My priority MUST be my sobriety, above all else. To hell with anyone who thinks that selfish, they obviously don't understand, and I cannot help that, it's not my responsibility, to make everyone else happy and at ease. My responsibility is to myself, to live my life honestly and safely. Nothing can stand in the way of that. It's so hard to think such things, having been raised to please others and submit to "keeping peace in the family". Never talk back, do as you're told and never, never offend anyone. Well, that hasn't really gotten me anywhere, has it?? So, hopefully this time I can make it stick, I can find my own way, and find a group of "family" that accept me for who I am, faults and weaknesses and all. There are friendships that are blooming in my life that I have never experienced before. Safe and caring. As someone who always moved through life alone, it feels like I true blessing to have someone there for me, now, when I need it the most. The Gods do work in wonderful ways, if you just let them.

Buddha, grant me the Serenity to accept the things I cannot change,
The Courage to change the things I can
and the Wisdom to know the difference.

One Day at a Time

Last night I made a bad decision. I was left here, alone, at my parents house, sitting and thinking and worrying and feeling hurt and pathetic. And in an effort to ease the pain I turned to my old habits and walked down the street to my old hangout where I promptly finished three beers and six gin and tonics. It felt so good to be back there, talking to strangers, feeling less alone, like I fit in somewhere, like there were people who liked me. I was even propositioned by a lovely English guy who wanted me to come with him and a friend to another bar that just so happened to be conveniently located across the road from his hotel room. There is something about a reasonably attractive stranger whispering in your ear how much he would like to please you that can make a girl feel pretty damn good in a twisted kind of way. Now years ago I would have been sneaking out of that hotel room at four in the morning, trying not to wake the mistake who lay sleeping. I would have walked home on a high that combined a sickening sense of guilt and euphoria at the conquest and boost to my ego that comes with the one night stand. But, tempting as it may have seemed, I thanked him sincerely and headed home by myself. I don't want anyone touching me, except my partner. I cannot substitute anyone for him.

Anyway, the damage was done. I was officially drunk and sick from the booze. I spent the night trying to sleep but inside I was disgusted with myself for being weak, for not having really learned anything from my time away from the bottle. But really, if you don't do the work, relapse is always going to be waiting right around the corner, waiting for the slightest justification or excuse to pick up that first drink. But today is a new day, and a new chance not to drink. I know what I have to do, put my own sobriety above everything else. Sobriety must be my number one priority if I am ever to live a sane and healthy life. I realize that I have been stuck in a three year rut, hiding away from myself and the world in order to avoid temptation. No one can live honestly like that. It is a half life, a life lived in fear. I must be brave, face my demons and my truths. Only then will I see the world as it really is and not as something to hide from. Any goals I think I have can never be fulfilled like this, to fulfill a goal one needs clear vision and clear thinking, two things I am currently lacking.

I should go to a meeting, I should be honest and admit that I cannot do this alone. Whatever issues I may have with "joining" and "programs" and "God, as we understand him", well they are actually just my addiction's way of controlling the situation, of raising doubts that will keep me from recovery. "Keep coming back!" they say, and once again I must go back. There is no shame in it, eventually it's going to stick.

Another Blurb about a Breakup

Okay, it's starting to sink in now. I've been trying to start packing today but it's slow going...getting up off your ass and out the door is so much easier when you're angry, just being hurt is never enough. Just being hurt does not push all thoughts of hope out of your head. With each piece I put in a suitcase or box or bag I find I'm moving slower and slower...giving him plenty of time to come home and tell me he's made a terrible mistake, that he'll do whatever it takes not to loose me. Silly, and slightly pathetic. You know what else would be easier if, since he's the one that doesn't want to be in this relationship, he was the one to leave. Isn't there some rule book that lays out the etiquette of breaking up...there should be, goddammit! Okay, actually I don't want to get stuck with the rent here, that's why I'm the one going, now I remember. You know I've heard that old "why would you want to be with someone who doesn't want to be with you?" adage and I've always believed it but this is harder than it sounds. I don't dislike him, am still attracted to him, he still feels like home, like family to me, that's what makes it so difficult. I worry for him, but that is all I can do, he was never my responsibility, he's not my child, I don't have to take care of him, he's a grown man and he'll be fine without me, and I will be fine without him. The pain is only for now, it will pass and life will continue in a way it wouldn't have done before this. But right now, today, it feels like more than I can bear.

A blurb about a break up

Aerial view of my new, expanded front garden.

(It'll fill in!)

My wonderful, resurrected, backyard herb garden

So my relationship has finally seen it's end. After six years together my partner and I have decided to call it quits. I can't say I'm happy or sad, I'm just numb, I don't feel anything except a nagging disappointment at loosing the beautiful garden I just created in the front yard. That must be saying something....sorry to never see the garden, not the boy. After all that has happened in the last sixteen months, I guess this was inevitable, the next logical step. I am so very scared of what will come; the adjustment period, if you will. I will have to apply for Welfare in order to afford a place to live since I am not yet working. How embarrassing. Well, I guess the challenge will be not to become complacent, to take this kick in the teeth and use it as a kick in the ass to get up and get on with my life. A clean slate is how I should approach this, a chance to live as I want and do whatever I like. Though I fear I will become the little old lady living alone in some tiny apartment...except I'm allergic to cats.... I won't even have the cats to keep me company! Great!

What to do, what to do?

I'm very nervous the last few days, and I'm not sure why. I feel like something is going to happen, something bad, or maybe I'm just becoming acutely aware that nothing is going to happen, that each day is just like the last. My days seem to pass me by without my noticing. Wasted time, time not even worth noticing, one useless day after another.

I am at a cross road, a crux, that I don't seem able to navigate. I'm stuck in a rut, as they say. What to do, what to do? So many choices and yet each one has limitations imposed on them by my fragile, high maintenance body. Skills, passions, dreams all seem stilted by my inability to travel, bend over without wincing, or carry anything heavier than a tea cup. Some old passions are resurfacing, and it's wonderful, but bitter sweet.

What am I good at......? I am good at listening, people open up to me, seem to feel comfortable with me without even getting to know me better, people tell me their stories. I am good at serving people, I actually like to make others happy, ease their burdens, fulfill their needs. I am humble but also have a solid sense of who I am and what I'm worth. I am patient, can wait for ever, put up with others moods and fancies and eventually break through to a state of accord. A natural born peace-keeper. I have a good eye for colour, style, quality, harmony and symmetry. I am somewhat literate myself, but have an ear for the language of others and know how to communicate what they want and take pleasure in being able to help them achieve it. I have good, maybe even excellent manners, (by today's standards) and enjoy the rigours of etiquette and "lady-like" behaviour. Sooo....what do these skills prepare me for? Well, in another age, and another economic bracket, maybe I could host a Salon, be a lady's maid, a companion, a courtesan? (Of course that would require another body and face too, but hey, this is all hypothetical!)

What to do, what to do? "Get off your ass" seems to be the refrain I keep hearing from those around me. "You're so smart, so talented, why don't you do something?" They never have concrete suggestions, just gentle reminders, nudges in no direction. No direction, that sums it up perfectly.


J.

The List

I haven't written anything in quite a while. To be honest this blog intimidates me. I am one of those people who, if they can't do something perfectly, prefer not to attempt it all. I do not write because I am afraid that I will only write garbage. Useless mumblings of a loser of average intelligence with nothing important to say. This is my fear, my insecurity that prevents me not only from writing but from pursuing life and all the challenges it presents. I know that I am doomed to fail. I realize that I do not know myself very well. My interests and opinions are flighty and shallow and my path is anything but clear. There are some interests that have lasted through many years and that I still feel strongly and passionately about but they get lost in a scramble of frivolous research and flights of fancy. I see my lifelong interests as devoid of any merit or simply beyond my abilities. I have been trying, of late, to recognize those things that matter to me.

For my own benefit, a reminder, a list of those interests that have stood the test of time.:

Human rights: I have been a member of, and avid letter writer for, Amnesty International for more than a decade but in the last year I seem to have lost my outrage, my passion and my hope. I have an innate respect for "different" peoples, religions and customs, patience for differing world views and a willingness to defend the ideals of freedom, responsibility and equality. This is not a passing, or "fair weather" trait but one that I strive to live by every moment of every day.

Tea: Yep, I am a tea whore. I couldn't even tell you how many boxes of tea I own at this moment. More than twenty, that's for sure. And tea cups, and saucers, and sugar bowls and creamers. I love the art and ritual of tea, not in the Japanese sense, but the British High Tea. Little sandwiches and pastries and fine hand painted china, raised pinkies and impeccable etiquette.. Aah, that is lovely. I could ramble on about tea and tea services but Ill leave that for another day.

Beauty: As cliche as it sounds I am a person who thrives on, who is inspired by beautiful things. Trees, a squirrel running along a fence (watch one sometime!), a peony in bloom, a spider web in the sunlight, the running waters of a river teeming with growth and life. Nature in all her glory, even those things in nature not celebrated in prose and poetry have there own distinct beauty that when looked at with new eyes, or ears, or nose can be wondrous. Compost heaps magically changing from waste to nutrient dense soil from which new life will spring. Worms aerating the soil, even the dung that feeds other life. Of course, give me a beautiful home, lovely clothes, perfume in a simple and well designed bottle, lipstick in an ornate and shiny tube, all of these are necessary to life. What is the point if your surroundings, everything you see, smell and touch do not bring pleasure. Pleasure is what separates us from the animals (though I'm sure that many animals enjoy their particular pleasures!). Form and function are the ideal. What is that saying "Do not keep anything in your home that you do not find either useful or beautiful" (or something like that) but...yeah. Of course my problem is that I find myself feeling guilty for desiring pleasure and beautiful things. They are not true necessities for life. Are they not frivolous? Are they not elitist? I don't know, I'm confused. I feel as if I am in the closet about this, feeling self conscious about wanting nice things. Maybe while drinking I lived so long wrapped up in my self, unaware of the outside world that now I don't know how to change, how to embrace being a person who wants to wear cute shoes, maybe a skirt, lipstick and a little expensive perfume too.

Well, enough rambling for tonight. To be continued....

Hamilton Writer's Fun and Games

Words to be used:

• music
• blue
• salty
• hallucinating the Stigmata
• Saskatchewan
• paraplegic
• prostitute
• Alcoholic

And here's what I've got.....


Her hand held the glass, shaking gently, tapping against the arm of her wheelchair. Music, the Blues, drifted up from the street below. The salty taste was still on her tongue, left there from the John now sprawled on the dirty bed behind her. She needed to wash it away-wash away more than the cum in her mouth, but her entire being. Drift away into the alcohol haze that was her saviour and her tormentor. Drink away the broken body and the memory of every bastard who ever paid to touch it, to "fuck the chick in the wheelchair". Fetishists, perverts, control freaks. She tipped the amber liquid down her throat and poured another from the bottle nestled in her useless lap. The burning Saskatchewan sun was setting, it's light streamed through her window. A shaft of light warming her face, orange and red. She watched the sun move across the wall, across her arms and dead legs, glinting off the steel frame of the chair. She downed another glass, refilled and held it up to the sun, admiring the play of light and booze. But for a brief moment - a trick of the light?- red spreading across the back of her hand. Panic. The tumbler fell from her grip. The cheap whiskey splashed against her legs and dripped onto her feet, stinging as it filled the open wound on the top of her foot, diluting the blood that flowed onto the floor. "What the fuck!!" she yelled, but the John kept snoring.




Yep, it's not Shakespeare, but it sure was fun!!


J.

Nothing

I have nothing, this week. Well. actually, I have too much, this week.

My Sickness Benefits have run out and I have no money, now I must apply for Welfare and Disability. My partner and I must lay our entire lives out on the government table to be examined and judged. My sense of self-worth is through the floor, I'm scared of what will come, of the long hard, bureaucratic struggle I have before me. I don't want to do it, but there is, really, no other way. I am no longer a productive member of society.

The last week I have been getting worse again. I am so confused. It feels as if there is a foggy curtain sitting in front of my mind and if I could only peek over it, I would be okay. I hate this symptom the most. Forgetting simply things, words, spelling, how to hold a fork. My sense of shape and volume and space are off as well, I cannot judge how big a bowl is needed for something I have just cooked. I end up dirtying three bowls before I find the one that will hold everything. The fine motor control in my hands is affected. I cannot hold a pencil, and as for typing this, well, it's taking forever, and thanks the Gods for "spellcheck". I put capitals where they don't belong, hit four keys at a time, suddenly erase all that I have done by hitting the wrong key. That really sucks. I was typing something the other day and erased it twice (using the mouse!) before I finally got it! The stupidity is embarrassing. I hate being around anyone when I'm like this, I try to seclude myself, close the door, stay inside, hide from those people who look at me with pity, or judgment. I don't need it, really! I've taken up smoking again, late at night when my mind is numb and the tension is squatting inside me, causing every muscle to tighten and quake and want to kick out. I know it's bad for me, but I like it, it feels really good, and few things do.

Anyway, I'm not really creating a masterpiece here, am I? I apologize for my rambling, but it's all I have right now. My mind, the one that can write, and paint, and cook and carry an intelligent conversation is currently on hiatus. My hands have tagged along for the ride. I am hoping that they will see fit to return again soon. I miss them terribly when they go.


A.