52 Things to be Grateful For

Once again, I've been told to write a gratitude list. A common suggestion when I call up one of my AA supports to complain about how horrible my life is and how terrible how I feel. I usually moan and complain and don't do it - only to be told that it is my own fault that I feel so bad. As if a gratitude list can fix everything. Yes, I have things to be grateful for, and I know that, but being grateful for things doesn't change the things I am upset about.

Today actually, I was told that I was acting like a two year old. I happen to think that a two year old couldn't come up with the clever things that I was saying and the intelligent ways that I apparently rationalize my behavior, feelings, reactions etc. I think at the youngest, maybe I was acting like a 7 year old. Truthfully, I don't much feel like acting any differently than I did earlier, or yesterday, or the day before that. I happen to be rather annoyed at this particular friend of mine and I am really resisting applying any program principles to the things that I am feeling. Every once in a while I experience this extreme resistance to the program, where I just don't want AA to be the answer. I just don't want to admit that it works and it works for literally everything, not just staying sober.

Anyway, I actually hate writing gratitude lists. Maybe because I like to wallow in my own self pity. I guess I just don't like to think about the things that are good in my life. What's wrong with me? I remember the first time I wrote one - I think I had been sober for 6 days. I'd been trying to be sober for a little over a month, but I went and drank a few times. I really thought that I wouldn't have anything to put on it, but I wrote it anyway, just to humor my friend. By the time I was done, I had thought of 52 things to be grateful for. So, in no particular order, and just to humor the people who are bothering me lately about how I feel - here you go:

I am grateful for/that:

My sponsor in Michigan, my sponsor in Chicago, that I got to be a part of Michelle's step study, Tom, Heather, my brother, my sister-in-law, my friend who brought me to AA, my cousins Jodie and Kellie, Ann, Jenny, Carrie, Leah, Claire, all of the people who have reached out to me (I guess I should lump people as one huh?), my job, my financial stability, the people that I work with who have been incredible to me through out this whole treatment process, that I have money saved, that my job is flexible and lets me work from home or wherever I want, that I am alive to write this, that I can feel things - even bad, Ryan - who has taken good care of me during this, the fact that I never hurt anyone else as a result of drinking, that I never got caught drinking and driving, that I never lost my driver's license or a job or a house because of drinking, that I never did drugs, for my cat Emerson - even though he pees on the floor when he is mad at me, that I don't commute to Detroit anymore, that Greg didn't hire me, that I have a good career, that I am educated, that I have the cutest nephew ever, that I have somewhere to go on Christmas if I choose to, for caller i.d., that I have learned to not answer when certain people call (although this needs a little more work), that I have learned to say no when I don't want to do something, that anywhere in the world I go - there will be a community of people who reach out to me, that my job considers family and health more important than billable hours, that I can buy myself anything that I want, that I have had some opportunity to travel, that I have learned to cry in front of people (heck, I cried in front of my boss twice on Sat.), that I have learned to say that I am not okay instead of always saying that I am fine, that I haven't had chronic back pain in over two years, that I have a nice place to live and food to eat, that I am able to help other people and touch other people's lives, that my sister-in-law let me borrow her piano, that my brother talks to me every day from Germany, that when I wake up in the morning I look forward to going to work instead of dreading it, that I never got sick during chemo, that I survived breast cancer with relative ease, that the cancer didn't spread, that I have a higher power who repeatedly shows up for me - even when I don't ask, that I am healthy.

I don't know how many that is - should I keep going?

What if This is As Good as it Gets?

The grieving process is described in stages - denial, anger, negotiation and acceptance. You don't always go through these things in that order and this process applies to things besides what you might think of as grieving a loss. I think most of us go through these stages all the time with all sorts of different things. The process was clear cut when I came into AA, it is less clear sometimes in other situations. This experience, though difficult for me and extremely painful to go through, is fairly simple actually. I leanred very quickly in AA the power of acceptance - only when you have real acceptance of where you are at in your life, will your life begin to change. Getting to this point of acceptance - to the end of this grieving process, however, is not as simple as the concept. To achieve acceptance, of anything, the ultimate question is always the same - what if this is as good as it gets?

When I found out I had breast cancer, the negotiations with my higher power began. When you are faced with something like a life threatening illness, or any number of other things that I can imagine - you think about what you can and can't live with, what you are and are not okay with, even though it is ultimately out of your control. I promptly told God to fuck off, but turned around and said, "if you just get me through this, I'll be a better person, I'll live differently, I'll do whatever you want."

Then, as I made my way through my life, now changed forever, I really started to think about the tradeoffs I would make. What would I give up, and in exchange for what? You find yourself hoping against hope that this higher power that seems to have dropped you on your ass really has a hold of this, because if not, you are basically fucked. I suddenly found myself saying I could live with it if my hair never grew back. It became a series tradeoffs, one for another. I'll give up this in exchange for that. I'd give up my hair in exchange for my fertility, anything in exchange for my fertility. Begging and pleading with God. I'll do anything. You can have anything you want. I'll give anything up you want to take, if you just give me that one thing back. But would I give up my fertility in exchange for my life? That's basically what I've been forced to do and it isn't a bargain I felt willing to make.

The ultimate question is always the same then. What if this is as good as it gets? Sometimes the things are insignificant. What if I always drive the car I drive and have the job I have? What if I always make the amount of money I make and live in the condo I live in? Sometimes the things are more significant. What if my hair never grows back and my skin never fades from the radiation? What if every time I look in the mirror, all I have is a constant reminder of the ways my life will never be the same. What if I am infertile? What if this is really the most I will ever have in my life and the best that it will ever get? I just can't live with that. I just can't get there. I have to be able to say, that if this is as good as it gets, I'm fine with that, and I'm just not.

The Sound of Relief Flushing

Every once in a while, as I accumulate things that I shouldn't have in the house - meaning various potentially mind or mood altering substances - I have to purge them. First I tell on myself for having them in the house, then flush them down the toilet so that whoever I am on the phone with hears me dumping it out and flushing it. The thought process goes something like - hmmm, I feel like crap, maybe I'm not an alcoholic. A couple days later - I still feel like crap, okay, maybe I'm an alcoholic or I wouldn't still be thinking about the White Hen across the street. Now I am also thinking about the vanilla. Okay, definitely an alcoholic. Hmm, I still feel like crap - what else do I have in the house that I could take, besides vanilla?

Let's see, Nyquil, Tylenol with Codeine, hmmm, Alkaselzter cold medicine, Ambien, Ativan, hmmm, Oxycodone. The reason I have all these things in the house is because I had to take pain killer during the cancer treatment periodically, as well as Ambien and Ativan to sleep. The Nyquil is because my step daughter was sick and the Alkaselzter cold medicine is because I was sick. It made me nervous to have to take anything during the treatment, but I really had no choice and I was taking it as prescribed and very carefully. Of course, I didn't want to take it at all - but once I didn't need it anymore, I also didn't want to throw it away - you know, just in case. In case of what exactly? In case I get a headache? Uh, no. In case of the night I'm sitting here alone thinking about the White Hen across the street and don't want to drink vanilla.

Well, anyway, I called Tom, he made me flush all the dangerous stuff down the toilet. I have kept the Ambien and Ativan because I am still going through treatment and occasionally still have extreme difficulty sleeping. I just mention that I have it still though, because I do have to be careful with it. It amazes me sometimes that I give this so much thought. I never did drugs. Not exactly. I had a brief period of time years ago when I took a friend's muscle relaxers. First I took them because my neck hurt after taking the bar exam, then I switched to a half dose because I liked the way it made me feel. I remember saying to my friend - wow - this must be how most people feel all the time - I'm way too tense! So then I cut myself off because I liked it a little too much. That was pretty much my only experience with drugs. On the other hand, I did take Nyquil for quite a while to sleep, even when I wasn't sick. Eventually this stopped working. Hmm. I also don't keep mouthwash with alcohol in it in the house because I know someone who relapsed on it. I even have to be careful with the Alkaselzter cold medicine, cause honestly, I like the way it makes me feel. I pretty much avoid taking anything if possible because just about anything can mess with my head.

Flushing all this stuff down the toilet brings back a memory from when I first got sober. I didn't believe I was an alcoholic when I fist quit drinking. I actually thought I was taking a temporary break. Little did I know that only alcoholics take breaks. Anyway, I remember the first night that I desperately wanted some relief from the things I was feeling. I did exactly what I did today. I searched the house - for anything I could take since I knew I wasn't going to drink. Benedryl, Nyquil - anything to just make me feel something else. My brother was living with me at the time and I had to throw his cold medicine and mouthwash away. So, here I am. Still thinking about the White Hen. Fortunately though, the sound of relief flushing, actually sounds a lot like relief.

Almost a Post, But Not Quite

I am basically a mess. I haven't written because I can't put together a coherent post. I have three almost posts, but I am lacking direction. To be truthful, I'm struggling lately - or still - and I definitely can't concentrate. Sometimes I say I don't know why I can't sleep, or why I can't concentrate or why this is so hard - but hello? Have I just been present for everything I've gone through? No, actually, I haven't been, and that's precisely the problem. I've been fooling myself I guess. Thinking I was dealing with things when in fact I wasn't. I'm an escape artist of sorts. Anything to avoid the pain and avoid feeling - it's all the same, any addiction really. Drinking, shopping, eating, working, obsessing over other peoples' problems - I look for distractions to avoid the pain. Or, I just plain run from it.

I remember the first time I really considered that I might be an alcoholic. I was about a week or so into trying to get sober and I realized, while talking with my friend who brought me into the program, just what was suddenly missing in my life - that numb feeling. That perfect numb feeling - the oblivion and the thought that I don't give a shit what happens next. When I get in a bad spot, I miss that feeling, or lack of I should say. This is how I know I am an alcoholic. My husband is out of town for a week or so and all I can think about for the past two days is the fact that the White Hen convenience store across the street sells wine and maybe I shouldn't be trusted here alone. One time I was making cookies and the recipe called for vanilla. My husband happened to look at the amount of alcohol in the vanilla - kidding around he told me to make sure I didn't relapse on it. For two days, all I could think about was whether I actually would ever drink vanilla. TWO DAYS I spent thinking about this.

My sponsor always likes to tell me the story about the guy who convinces himself he isn't an alcoholic - and to celebrate that revelation - he gets drunk! The point, only an alcoholic would drink to celebrate something like that. Anyway, the truth is, I'm a wreck and I'm desperate for a little relief and drinking is on my mind because it is the quickest way for some immediate, although very temporary relief. Quitting my job and moving away sounds good, this would probably be my first choice for handling what I am going through, but I can't execute it fast enough. My sponsor would tell me to pray for some relief. I used to do things the really hard way. My sponsor would tell me to do something and I would purposely refuse to do it. I carried on like this until I realized I was only hurting myself. Today is a perfect example though of old behavior. She told me to go to a meeting every day and to call her if I didn't. So, today I didn't go and I called her up, crying, and told her so - as if to say - so there. The truth is, I'm only hurting myself. I know what to do to get some relief, but I just don't do it. I don't do it and I lie to myself and tell myself that I don't understand why I feel so bad. Well, thank god other people see through my bullshit, cause I can convince myself of anything.

A "God Thing"

I have always believed that certain things happen for a reason. I have a hard time believing that nothing happens by mistake, but I do think that at least some things happen for very specific reasons. Certain people enter our lives at just the right time. There are some coincidences that just aren’t coincidental at all – an event that we in AA refer to as a “God thing.” Ever since coming into Alcoholics Anonymous – even before actually – I have experienced a number of these events. Usually these experiences involve walking into a meeting and hearing just exactly the thing that I need to hear, but often these experiences also involve just the right person unexpectedly stepping into my path.

In May of 2005, before I got sober, I used to attend ACOA meetings (Adult Children of Alcoholics). In May of last year I was having a particularly difficult time – things were happening that led up to my eventually making it into AA. Anyway, for two months I had been driving around in my car crying, sinking deeper and deeper into depression. One Tuesday night at the ACOA meeting, I finally broke down – which is something I very rarely do in front of anyone. I finally lost it in front of the group, talking about how I didn’t know if I could continue to live and that I didn’t know what to do. A visitor to the meeting who was visiting from the northern lower peninsula of Michigan asked for my phone number. She called me the next day and saved my life. She talked to me for 4 hours that day and over the next couple of days we talked for several more hours. She went home and we lost touch.

This past February, I walked into an AA meeting, on what was the most difficult day I had had in sobriety up until that point. I lost it at the meeting, talking about how I might be moving and my brother was leaving in a couple of days to move out of the country. She was sitting across from me but we didn’t recognize each other at first. In fact, I had sat down at one table and then moved to another. She followed me – telling me later that although she hadn’t recognized me until I started talking, she knew when I moved tables that she was supposed to follow me. If she hadn’t, we wouldn’t have reconnected that day. We talked later that day – I had a chance to thank her and tell her just how much she had helped me the May before – and I found great comfort in the things that she had to say to me. She went back up north and we again lost touch.

I went home to Michigan last weekend and while I was there, I went to a bunch of AA meetings – my old meetings that I used to go to. As I was talking about my visit to Michigan and that I had come home because I was having an extremely difficult time in Chicago – a hard time staying sober, a hard time living life, a hard time with everything – she walked into the meeting. This woman who had saved my life, who had helped me tremendously in just a few conversations, who has shown up, coincidentally, at all three of the hardest times I have had in the past year and a half – walked right in and reminded me in a moment that can only be described as a “God thing,” that my higher power is watching out for me even when I don’t ask, or can’t ask or don’t want to ask. Those little God things are just the kind of reminders I need sometimes and they always happen when I find myself the most mistrustful of the process and doubtful of my higher power’s presence in my life. Over and over again I experience such coincidences that are just too perfectly planned to be coincidences at all.

This actually happened twice this weekend – I was reconnected with a different person this morning who helped me tremendously when I found out I had breast cancer. Although she had told me how to get through chemo and how to survive cancer (herself a fellow survivor), she never told me her name and I didn’t really know how to track her down or if she was even still in the program. Just this morning as I sat at a meeting and thought about how much I wanted to see her, how much I needed her help and her positive energy right now, how much I wanted to thank her, she walked into the meeting – a not so subtle reminder that in any given moment my higher power hands me exactly what is needed.

A Day Off, What's That?

I have this thing that I need to finish ASAP for work - so I am posting instead. Ahhhh, procrastination - that means I must not be busy enough. Maybe I will clean my office next.

Anyway, so, I am taking this Thursday and Firday off to go "home", however, in my world, there is no such thing as a day off. The clients keep emailing, everyone wants everything this week - I see the days slipping away. At the very least, I will be chained to my blackberry, checking it constantly and responding to emails. This is probably not because I have to, but because I feel guilty if I don't. Nevertheless, I've taken Thursday and Friday "off," in theory anyway.

In my world, I call days off, even sick days, "days off in theory." In theory I can take as much time off as I want - just as long as I find enough extra days in the year to make up for it. In fact, I have spent the past two Saturdays working and will probably work next Saturday, just to make up for the fact that I have taken these two days off. The lack of real time off is probably the only thing I don't really love about my job and it's the only thing I miss about my previous job.

It would be nice to have a day off. A real one. One where I don't have to worry about finding 8 plus hours split over other days to make up for it. One where I can relax and shut my email off. The trouble is, if I actually shut my email off for two days, I would lose at least half of a day trying to weed through my email to pick out the important stuff. I can't remember the last time I didn't, at the very least, check email when "off" work. Even when I was going through cancer treatment, I would sit there in the hospital and respond to emails. Am I nuts? Or do I just have good work ethic?

Besides not really being able to take days off, I feel bad even asking for a day off because I took days off for doctor's appointments. The fact is though, I worked like 50 hours a week through the entire treatment process and only missed a day and a half of work because I was sick. The other day one of the secretaries said to me - oh so and so stayed home today, he didn't feel well. I thought - didn't feel well, didn't come to work - people actually do that?

This morning in our weekly group meeting the head of my group said to the group that I was planning to be out for a week or so. I'm not sure where he got this idea. I told him I needed a day or two to regroup after everything I've been through. I should have gone with it. I could have gotten a whole week without even asking. Try finding an extra week's worth of time though - it isn't as easy as you might think.

The Coolest Pumpkin That Wasn't

I have this thing for pumpkin carving – it’s one of my favorite things to do. Pumpkin carving and cookie decorating. I like to take these things to the extreme – as my brother and sister-in-law know all too well. A few years ago when I was living with them, Rachel made sugar cookies – I forced us to decorate them exactly as they appeared on the Williams Sonoma cookie cutter tin they came in. This meant we had to hand pipe all of the frosting on to every single cookie. The elves had to have stripes on their tights! This took like twelve hours and the cookies were so cool that I don’t think people wanted to eat them. Needless to say, I’ve never been able to get them to do this with me again. We sort of tried it up north a few years ago with a tin of zoo animal cookies, but my 8 year old cousin didn’t cooperate – his cookies were like Jackson Pollack paintings – even more yummy than mine because of all of the extra frosting.

Anyway, pumpkin carving is like cookie decorating. I can sit there for hours, literally. I usually go for the patterns that you put on the pumpkin, but this year I tried something new. A few weeks ago I came upon an issue of Ladies’ Home Journal that had the latest and greatest pumpkin carving ideas. Bas relief pumpkin carving with a u-gouge linoleum cutter. Granted the article said to get a practice pumpkin, but how hard could this possibly be? I went in search of the u-gouge tool, a little confused as to how you could possibly cut linoleum with this thing. Little did I know there is more than one kind of linoleum. The people at home depot tried to tell me to just cut the linoleum with a pair of scissors or an exacto blade – and they looked at me like I was crazy when I told them that I actually planned to carve a pumpkin with a tool that cuts linoleum. One of my friends told me to be careful not to cut the pumpkin in half which I just thought was silly – there is no way you could cut the pumpkin in half with this thing. Anyway, I finally found the tool at a craft supply store. This was when I discovered there is more than one kind of linoleum and this tool looks like something that would be used for soap or wood carving.

Anyway, I guess this is the latest craze in pumpkin carving, but I couldn’t find any stencils to use so I had to make my own. The short of it is, 3.5 hours later, my back hurt and I was bleeding. I have two half carved pumpkins, two pumpkins I just don’t feel like carving, and a useless u-gouge linoleum cutter. This pumpkin would have been so cool, but even I don’t have the patience to sit there and do this. I should probably stick to cookie decorating – if I can find someone to help me who is willing to do it my way!

To My Best Friend Heather

My fondest memories of childhood, the things that make me smile and laugh the most, are the times that I spent with my best friend Heather. I am blessed to have someone in my life who has been there forever, who knows everything about me and who I can tell anything to. I don’t think most people have a friendship like this one and I consider myself really lucky. Heather and I met when we were three and we’ve been friends ever since. She was the one person when I was growing up that I could have over to the house without worrying that she would find out what was really going on there. She may have been the only person that I ever had over to the house. She spent quite a bit of time there actually and although I don’t remember talking much as kids about what was going on when no one was looking, I think it was because we didn’t have to.

We haven’t lived in the same city since we were seven, so I find it extraordinary that we have remained friends over all these years. Our parents drove us back and forth in the summers and for school holidays. Before she moved, I remember riding around the block on my big wheel to get to her house, and my dad lifting her over the back fence in the raspberry patch so she could get home. We spent weeks at each other’s houses and I would cry and cry when I had to go home. No matter what has happened in our lives, what we have been doing, where we’ve been living, she has been a constant in my life. Being diagnosed with breast cancer sort of prompted me to evaluate my life in a way that I think most people only do when they are older. What do I regret, what do I love, what am I grateful for, what do I wish for, what would I change, how can I live differently? It has made me realize the value of certain people in my life and how important it is to share with these people what they mean to you. I have an appreciation, like only some people can have, of just exactly how everything can change in a split second.

One of my favorite things to do with Heather over the years has been to sit around and talk about the silly things we did when we were kids. We laugh and laugh. To other people these stories probably aren’t all that funny, but they make me laugh, they make me cry, and they are my favorite memories of my childhood.

There are so many stories, 26 years worth. There was the time we crushed a box of cheerios on her parent’s kitchen floor by stomping on them. The time we washed rocks from the driveway and tried to sell them. The time we locked my brother in the corner – two doors came together when they were both open and we put my brother in there and tied the doorknobs together. Actually – in reality, my brother must have gone in willingly. There was the time we made a refrigerator in her bedroom out of a cardboard box and a fan and kept pickles in it. And the time we locked our selves in my parent’s bathroom to drink pickle juice and called it “dill wine” and then hid the jar in the closet when my mom knocked on the door. We used to sled down the stairs at my parent's house in sleeping bags.

We had this thing we called the “fund” and Heather used to lug it to my house every time she came. Every time we saw each other, we counted the fund and added to it. It consisted entirely of change and at its peak I think we had about $125. Every time we saw each other we would take some money out of the fund and go to the corner store and buy tons of candy – jolly ranchers when they used to come in the long flat sticks. We used to buy all the Garfield comic books and read them together. And for some reason, we took a lot of walks. We would get together and walk for what seemed like hours, talking about everything. There was the time we went to the Lilith Fair concert, got soaked, I lost my shoes, we ran to the car - were covered in mud by the time we got there, we stripped down to almost nothing because we had driven her mom's brand new car, got stuck in accident traffic on the way home and went through the Taco Bell drive through at 3 a.m. in our underwear. Even now, things happen that make me laugh when I think about them. Recently when Heather visited me – we sat at my dining room table for what I think was a total of about 9 hours doing a jig saw puzzle, saying almost nothing to each other the entire time. I think she is the only person I could do this with.

Anyway, in twenty-six years, Heather and I have only gotten in to one fight that I can think of. We must have been 7 because it was before she moved away. We got into a fight over the stuffed Garfield animals we were playing with – I wanted hers because hers could wear underwear.

Much of my life I have felt like no one knows me, no one knows the real me, with the exception of Heather. She has been there through everything, the good and the bad, and everything in between. I would be lost without you.

Happy Anniversary To Me!

I've been sober for 10 months today! I probably make too big of a deal about my anniversary and usually feel annoyed that other people seem to forget it. Some people have even told me that the "in between" ones (meaning, not your 30 day, 90 day, 6 month, 9 month or one year anniversaries) don't really count. I just disagree. The fact is, every day counts and a lot of people say we all just have the same 24 hours.

I have special appreciation for the fact that I have 10 months today because the truth is, for as easy as I have seemed to sail through surviving breast cancer - I almost went to the bar last weekend. It was probably the closest call since I first started this endeavor called not drinking, otherwise known as living in reality. Anyway, I usually "get weird" around my anniversary as people often say happens. This month, I just feel incredibly grateful that I didn't go out last weekend. If I had, I would be sitting here on, I don't know, day 5 maybe if I were lucky, or perhaps I wouldn't be sitting here at all. I forget sometimes the life and death of what I am dealing with, but two people I knew from my home town where I first got sober committed suicide this summer after they went back out and couldn't get sober again. Over and over I hear this story.

So, there are moments like last weekend - the day after I almost went to the bar, where I have a real true appreciation of how deadly this disease is, very deep gratitude that I am sitting where I am sitting today, and complete acceptance that I do in fact have this problem. I usually - lose the acceptance, forget that this can kill me and, gratitude - what's that?

Today though, I really am grateful to all of the people who have saved me time and again. I don't just mean saved me from going to the bar when I didn't like the way that I was feeling, but who have saved me by teaching me how to live differently through the situations that arise in my life. I am especially grateful to my friend Tom who has probably kept me from drinking on more occasions than he realizes. He always gives me tokens for my anniversaries and never forgets it. (Let's see if he remembers it today!!).

I remember very early on when I first showed up to meetings, Tom had just had his 6 month anniversary. I don't know if I even had 30 days at that point, but I remember thinking wow, there is no way I could ever not drink for 6 months. Anyway, he gave me his 6 month token and I carried it around with me every day. This meant more to me than he probably knew. Now I carry his one year token around every day. I never announce my anniversaries at meetings like you are supposed to, and people are always reminding me that the reason I announce my anniversary is not for me, but for the benefit of other people - for all of the people who are sitting there wondering if it is in fact possible to stay sober for 6 months, one year, 10 years - and it really deepens my sense of appreciation when someone announes a 30 day anniversary and I am able to remember what it felt like to have 30 days sober and think I was going to die from the pain that I was feeling. Anniversaries remind me where I am going and where I never want to be again.

Anyway, I don't think Tom knows how much I appreciate his friendship and how much he he has helped me, but if it weren't for Tom, and a lot of other people, I'm not sure I would even be here right now. So, Tom, if you are reading this, I am deeply grateful for your friendship and truly appreciate eveything you have done for me. Whenever I thank people for their help, they always remind me that I don't have to thank them, I should just go help someone else. That is, after all, how it works. Nevertheless - Tom, thank you, for little things - like answering your phone 15 times the other day when I didn't think I was going to make it.

A Holy Crap Moment

Do you ever have those moments when suddenly reality dawns on you? All of a sudden the truth about something becomes clear. Either you've been living in denial and don't know it - usually you've been living in denial and don't know it - or you just haven't been paying attention maybe. It's like you aren't living in reality and then suddenly you are. Time starts to pass so quickly that you just can't keep up. I call those "holy crap moments." Holy crap - how did I get here - how did this become my life? When did I get to be almost 30 and almost 4 years into a career? Holy crap, I'm a real live functioning adult. That one surprises me every time actually because I've been like an adult since I was, oh, about 10 probably - at least in some ways. Emotionally, probably not, but always overly responsible and overly worried - dealing in some ways with adult issues from the time I was a little kid. People in AA will tell you that you stop growing emotionally when you start drinking. Hmm. Does that mean I'm a 21 year old? I don't know. More on that later....

Anyway, I have those holy crap moments a lot. I think because life moves so fast and I fail miserably at staying in the day, staying present in the moment and enjoying it. One minute I'm 25 and graduating from law school, stressed out about everything and it seems like the next minute I'm 29, everything is different, and I'm still stressed out about everything. What happened in between? I don't even know because I'm always so focused on something specific that I miss all the details only to find myself wondering - how did I get here again? I've called off a wedding, had 3 jobs since law school, gotten sober, stayed sober, moved to Chicago, gotten married, survived breast cancer. I know I posted about getting sober and having breast cancer the other day - but even when I wrote that post, I don't think I had an appreciation for what I was saying.

I was getting ready for work yesterday just like I always do and it finally dawned on me - in one of those holy crap moments. I just did something incredible. I survived breast cancer. Holy crap people, I survived breast cancer!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

The Significance of Today

I said before that I am a survivor of my childhood. I might have said it in a way that makes it sound unremarkable or like I am ashamed of the person that I am. Like I would rather be something other than a survivor of anything when in fact being a survivor of any tragedy or adversity is nothing short of amazing. I am survivor of a lot of things and that is what has given me my incredible strength. I have been told recently by a lot of people that my strength is unparalleled and that I should be more open with my story and my past because you never know who is listening and you might just say the very thing that saves another person’s life. This has been my experience anyway, in the program of Alcoholics Anonymous. Time and again, we save each other’s lives.

I remember the first time I ever said, “I am an alcoholic.” It was not at my first meeting of Alcoholics Anonymous and I didn’t show up there because I thought I had a problem. I said it at my twelfth meeting and the only reason I said it on that particular occasion was because the lights were off. It was a candlelight meeting and in the darkness I felt somewhat less of the shame that I associate with this. For days I had walked around the house saying the words, “I am an alcoholic, I am an alcoholic, I am an alcoholic.” “I am an alcoholic and I have been sober for ten days.” How does it sound? Does it feel true? What does it mean? Do I believe it? Can I say in front of someone else or do I feel too ashamed?

For the first eleven meetings I said my name, and that I wasn’t sure whether I belonged there, I just knew I felt better on the days I showed up. Eventually someone said to me, “you know, people who aren’t alcoholics, don’t just show up to AA meetings, what the hell do you think you are doing here?” “People who aren’t alcoholics don’t sit around and wonder about whether they are or not.” Eventually I would understand exactly what they meant although it would take a couple of months, a couple of slips and a lot of really bad days before I really believed what I now know for certain is true about me.

Well, it was a year ago today that I went to my first meeting of Alcoholics Anonymous with the thought in my mind that I might qualify. It was a day after the worst hangover I’ve ever had - a two-day hangover, two days off of work, and midnight emails to a friend about how I didn’t understand what was happening to me. Although that meeting was an “open meeting” and I thought I was attending as a member of Al-Anon and ACOA, my friend had brought me there with something else in mind, watching me the entire time to see if I was relating. Little did I know that this was the beginning of what would ultimately change and undoubtedly save my life.

Today is important to me - dates are important to me in general – anniversaries, milestones - the date of that first meeting, my sobriety date which is December 14th, the day I found out I had breast cancer and the day I found out that I was cancer free, which was just last Tuesday. I am a recovering alcoholic, a 29 year-old breast cancer survivor, a survivor of my childhood and my past. It is remarkable and it is amazing and it is nothing to be ashamed of.

I put on a breast cancer survivor bracelet today for the first time and felt empowered by having experienced what I have been through in the past year in a way that I did not feel before, in a way that allows me, hopefully, to internalize the lessons that come from suffering so much and emerging on the other side, better, stronger and believing you are able to survive anything.

What Am I Doing Here Again?

I was going to write about something completely different – actually, I wasn’t going to write at all. Two posts into this endeavor, I had decided to call it quits – except to my surprise, a couple of people asked me when I was going to post something. It’s like a T.V. show that you don’t necessarily want to watch, but you just keep watching because you have to find out what happens next. There are blogs that I check regularly – okay, obsessively, waiting for that next post.

Anyway, the truth is, something happened between a friend and I just over a week ago that has made me question myself and question what I was going to do on this blog. Actually, it’s made me question just about everyone I know and whether I can really trust anyone with the truth about anything. Why put my feelings and fears out there for everyone to criticize and judge? That isn’t going to help me. Why not just keep it all to myself? The point was to be honest – because I was tired of hiding behind the overwhelming shame that has kept me quiet for so long. Yet at the same time, I guess I would rather hide than be judged or criticized. I would rather not lose friends in the process of being myself - but then again, if people can't accept me, I guess they were not my friends anyway.

My mind wasn’t even really on the risk of judgment that goes along with truth telling and putting yourself out there. I just wanted to be honest, blind I guess to the consequences. A “good friend” of mine made some terrible and unfounded judgments about my husband last weekend, which were indirectly judgments of myself, and this has resulted in the end of our friendship. I decided after that I was probably better off continuing to be myself, while at the same time pretending not to be. It’s worked so far I guess – so, so much for this blog.

For completely different reasons, I am tired of peoples’ reactions to me in general so I guess I am not sure what I am doing here at all really. I can’t be picky though right? I can’t expect people to react to me exactly the way I want them to. I don’t just want to be honest to elicit a specific response and certainly not to elicit any sympathy. I guess I can’t focus on peoples’ reactions at all, or I would entirely miss the point. Nevertheless, I am fed up with peoples’ assumptions and judgments and I don’t really feel like having to justify anything.

I have been through hell in the past four months, and mostly I am tired of the people who say they understand and relate or can imagine. I can tell you for sure that you cannot even begin to imagine, most of you can’t, and almost no one that I know personally. Even if you are one of the people who have observed me over the past year, deal with what I have had to deal with and you claim to have your own experience that parallels mine as you have watched me and gone through certain things with me – you still don’t have what I have, which is my own very personal experience.

You don’t feel what I feel and you don’t think what I think. You don’t know what it is like to get up every day and live with what I live with. I believe now more than ever that until you walk in the shoes of someone else, until you get up every day and live what they live and do what they do, you really aren’t in a position to judge them for anything. Until you are me, and you never will be – how can you question my motives or choices, the things that I feel and the ways that I deal with things? You can’t.