I’m grateful for the quiet this morning and grateful I don’t fear it anymore. I’m grateful to see how radical acceptance can be. I’m grateful for letting go of what I need to and knowing what to hold on to. I’m grateful for determination and irrationality. I’m grateful to be sober today.
SUNDAY GRATITUDE EXTRAVAGANZA
Hi there and welcome to Sunday and the Sunday Gratitude Extravaganza! 1 I’m sorry to break format—is there even a format? But there is something I definitely want to share with you and if it means getting yelled at for not sticking with the format I invented last week (or whatever), so be it. But before I tangent away:
Five Things… [you should definitely do today]
You should definitely check out the NEW LOOK Saturday Gratitude Round-Up if you haven’t already!
You should definitely listen to Episode 29 of Breakfast with an Alcoholic!
You should definitely try not laugh when you listen to this song:2
Jane says you should definitely read “Hurt Hunting” by Lee Tilghman
You should definitely read “Where Does it Hurt” by Matt Andersen
I’ve spent the last few days in very serious woe-is-me, end-is-nigh, look-at-what-I’ve-squandered, look-at-what-I’ve-lost, I’ll-never-make-things-work-again land. If you can’t guess from the name, it’s a shitty place to be.
Anyway, doom and gloom pervaded, although I think I kept up a pretty good game face—but not really. I really felt the crumble coming on. I had the flu on Wednesday and then feeling slightly better Thursday, but literally awake all night. For whatever reason, I spent Thursday night laying awake in the dark and let’s just say I was particularly able to sense the real depths of my fear.
I realize now when I’m most afraid, I just go dead. That was my adaptation, how I got through the difficult spots in my life. I just learned to be dead inside and not let any of those pesky feelings get in and get more stirred up. Alcohol is a pretty great accomplice in this endeavor. The Big Book and every AA meeting are rife with the stories of the lengths we alcoholics will go to banish the fear from our lives. Well, that’s what we think we’re doing. At least it’s what I thought I was doing.
I thought alcohol was an effective way of combatting the dragon of fear that had come to live inside me. I put a river of liquid courage right on that target—that fear dragon—and we went weapons free, baby. It was way more than a “mad minute.” It was also completely stupid. Like some weird science fiction movie I’m probably able to synopsize for you if you were interested, the jet of liquid courage was actually growing the dragon.3
Getting sober has meant a lot less time with the dragon. And while s/he is definitely diminished, it still sucks when the dragon wants to come out and play. So that’s what was going on with me. The dragon was launching some pretty fiery breaths of fears and regrets; they were on target and definitely capable of getting that dumpster fire going again.
I thought about drinking. I mean, not like, “let’’s go out and drink!” It was reflective, wondering whether drinking had ever really worked at what it’s supposed to be so good at. I wondered what it would even feel like to go and try again. No—there’s definitely no power left there—that didn’t even make the needle jump a little bit. I just laid awake and thought terrible thoughts that somehow didn’t really provoke any feelings—like throwing a tennis ball at a wall in an empty basement. I felt pretty alone and maybe the word “despair” is too melodramatic, but let’s just say I was feeling pretty low.
At some point Thursday night I was seized with this one really strong thought:
If you really want me to keep going, you’re going to to need to let me know.
What I’m doing these days is a very long ways from what I used to do. I’m not comfortable doing it and I feel kind of insane most of the time. I really, really don’t know how things could ever work out. At the same time, I have the unmistakable, unshakeable sense that I’m finally doing exactly what I’m meant to. I know this sounds grandiose and insane, and it’s not meant that way, I don’t think any of this has anything to do with where I stand relative to anyone else. It’s that I think I’ve finally tuned into my personal radio frequency. I’ve felt the sense of attunement and there’s no going back once that happens. I also know that when the signal gets weak, it’s me that needs the adjusting.
I actually got up and went to my desk and decided to write down what I was thinking. It was like 3:30am or something. I made a squigly mark on the paper to see if the pen worked, then I wrote down the first thing that came into my head. It sure looks like a prayer now:
So I prayed this prayer yesterday —and shared it all with you on Friday morning—which again strikes me ask an insane thing to do and then I went about my business. That evening, I ordered ramen, tried to read for a while, ended up dozing off and on all night on the sofa—not a great, therapeutic sleep. I went into to the kitchen Saturday morning and rebuked myself for not having put away the extra ramen (it was BOGO last night!), started making coffee, began thinking about everything I needed to do today, and started down the path of wondering why I was doing any of it—when none of seems to matter sometimes.
And then, I don’t know. I sat down here and was looking at the website and wondered why this particular Gratitude List was so popular and I was reminded of this:
The doubt and uncertainty that plagued me, tormented me, is mostly gone. It’s not gone because the Big Guy shared a detailed plan and timeline with me, laying out exactly how great things are going to be and when. It’s gone because I finally let my life be suffused with okay-ness. Bill says that a willingness to believe is all that is required to make a start. Believe in what? For this alcoholic, it was being willing to believe that despite doubt and uncertainty, bad things, good things, pain, joy, whatever—things were going to be ok.
The light at the end of the tunnel is probably sunlight, not an onrushing train. The ceiling is not about to cave in. And even when those things happen, I’m still willing to believe things will be ok again. That has been the fundamental gift of sobriety for this alcoholic, to repeat myself (well, repeating myself repeating someone else, actually):
every minor world that falls apart, falls together again.
Suddenly, I was in tears and my apartment was painted yellow by the sun and it was all so bright and warm and light. It was still early and there was no one else around and maybe this was meant just for me? I was giddy and light and everything was suffused by that sense of very warm okay-ness. I went into the kitchen and poured myself a really delicious cup of coffee and got to work. I laughed out loud at God, but even louder at myself.4 The answer is always there, it always was there, and like everyone else, I just had to find it in my own time. It turns out I have to keep finding it in my own time over and over again.
I sat down and tried to write as much about what had just happened as I could. I’m not sure what Bill’s moment on the mountaintop in his room at Town’s Hospital felt like, but I wonder if it’s just that sense of overwhelming connection, when you’re finally dialed in. When you finally let go and get things right.
I’m not sure I captured any of what I thought was so magical yesterday morning. At some level, I was feeling shitty and then the sun came up and I felt better. You know what, that’s is plenty okay, if that's all it was. If the sunrise can recalibrate me these days, that’s pretty cool. Except, the really insane part? The part I know way deep down, the part that keeps tears in my eyes, the part that has transformed my life from top to bottom?
I know it was way more than that. It was a prayer being answered.5
T.B.D.
Is this an extravagant newsletter? We think not. That’s an AA joke, you have to have a desire to stop drinking to get it.
Yes, this was from a long-lost playlist! It’s better the louder you play it.
As I think about it, the “Fear Dragon” used to be more of a “Smaug—type” creature, but now thinking its way more Godzilla—with attributes of Mothra and Smog Monster.
The symptoms of true insanity and sobriety are not always very far apart.
I must say, that’s a pretty good todo list. Glad you’re feeling better (even if it cost you some ramen)!
I love how things line up that way and let you know it’s all going to be okay, that you’re one the right track, that it does matter. I’m on the “answer to prayer” team.