No matter what

Morning all, hope you are well. I’m writing this around 5 in the evening. It’s been a rough but okay day so far. The boys are behaving, I am as well. I’m about to start getting the dishes done.

I’m currently missing my regularly scheduled recovery commitment. This bites me hard. Well, for the proper language, I’m disappointed in the situation. Okay, I know why it was canceled. I just really really look forward to these monthly talks at aftercare.

However, from the wheelchair, going out in all weathers is over. I don’t have a snowplow on the chair, so you know, life happens. Heck, I can’t even push the thing through a few little flakes. Yet, that’s not the point of the exercise.

I guess sitting here listening to 40 year old country music isn’t helping matters is it. Chuckle. Songs as familiar as my hands croon in my ears, and settle my soul. They bring me to a place in my heart where I was still young and lithe. They bring me to a place when I could run, and the worst of my addiction hasn’t happened yet.

Now we come to the point of this post. I’m a drug addict in recovery. I’ve been taking part in online clean work for many years, back to the days when ICQ was the site of choice, and yahoo groups were a thing.

Back then, there were not enough face to face meetings available to keep me going, so I attended online meetings often. I was a weirdo, back then that was unheard of. Today, it’s saved my sanity. I learned to stay clean no matter what.

Recovery has to be my first priority, and staying sober, for those who drink or staying clean for the rest of us has to come first. It’s the only thing after my faith in God that comes before family, friends, and my marriage.

As an addict, I am responsible for living the program, working the steps and carrying the message. I am accountable to my marriage, my friends and family for staying sober. How? I would not have those things if I wasn’t sober today. If I picked up, those relationships would just be done. The next high would be my God again, and nothing, absolutely nothing would stop me.

I know, after working the 4th and 5th steps what I am capable of, and I know how much damage I did in the boozing and using days. I also know that clawing my way out of that hell was not easy, and without the help of a Higher Power, higher than the disease of addiction, I have no chance of a snowball in hell of coming back to recovery.

You see, once using becomes acceptable, nothing matters anymore. It is what it is. It’s normal again, and we are not talking about the washer. We are talking about what is regularly happening on a daily basis for me.

So, no matter what, I want to stay clean. I want to be among the sober ones. I want to live long enough to get that 75 year medallion some day.

Take care my loved ones, be careful out there. Hugs and huggage. I will bug you again soon. -L

Change is good. I’ll take silver dollars please.

Just kidding. Good morning all. Young Master Duke is keeping an eye on me. I’ve been busy doing chores. My Beloved is asleep. Happy US Thanksgiving to those who celebrate. Happy Friendsgiving. Happy Thursday etc…

I swapped out the tables I use in the mini dungeon. I also set up and did the dishes. I hand wash dishes, as even with setting up the folding table and using wash tubs, it is easier than using the dishwasher. Also, it keeps my hands clean.

Meanwhile, I’m behind on my projects. I swapped tables because my Husband wanted the one for something. The one I have is possibly better suited, I’m not entirely sure. It is on wheels though, so that’s something.

I was really upset, though. When he asked me to do this. I don’t like tearing things down on the fly and swapping stuff out like this unless of course, it is my idea. Chuckle. I swallowed my pride, and did the work.

I left out the snarky comments, and didn’t start a fight like I wanted to. Fighting my character defects sucks. Yes, I’m supposed to be a good kid. Yes, I’m supposed to turn the character defects over. There are days when I do pretty okay on that.

Then there are days like today. Today I want to scream and rage. It’s not becoming a knitter. I know. I don’t want to be a psychopathic bitch. I want to be kind, and to be nice. It doesn’t matter how long I have been sober or clean, I still have character defects.

This means, I still have work to do. The irony, getting rid of character defects isn’t as easy as waving a wand over my head. It’s not as easy as getting dunked in a giant bathtub in front of a congregation. It’s not as easy as fessing my sins in front of a priest.

It means that every time my brain wants to be sick int he head, I need to change my character for the better. Even after all these years sober, I still have to work on this. The problem is still me.

So, I need to get back to work. Young Master Duke wants to go out I am certain. I have more work to do anyways.

Gentle hugs my friends. Be good. -L

It doesn’t happen often

Morning all, hope you are well. The boys are doing okay. I’m sitting here, listening to a woman’s story for the 2nd time. I don’t do this often, but she spoke to me.

I found a new podcast through an ad on another show. On a whim, I went to check it out, and today I spent time listening to the first episode. I got busy, and listened to my favorite archaeology podcasts, and others. Eventually, I cleared my queue, and started fresh.

I grabbed this episode at random, I suppose, and was fascinated. I was held captive by this woman’s voice. Her story, was not my own, not by any means. However, the pain, the alcoholism, and the way it destroyed her life I identified with.

Holy crap, the way her life… how she grew up, and how she survived. How she reacted to the unmanageability around her… the way her soul was destroyed. I identify.

I found myself nodding, and listening closer and closer. I know how she felt, how she lived… I felt and lived that way too. I still do, in many ways.

Living every moment as if you are ‘on’ and that something horrible will happen if something isn’t done exactly the way it is supposed to be done… Yet the rules on what is supposed to be done change one second to the next.

That was my normal, and in many ways, it still is. I’m hoping to heal, and to grow over time. I pray so.

I’m going to go back to my stitching now, and listen to this woman’s words and her life again. Take care, -L

Waiting, and a little recovery

Morning all, Young Master Duke and I are in the kitchen. He’s had his secret Voupies this morning. I’ve had my medication. My beloved is asleep in bed. I made the executive decision to order dinner for delivery. We are impatient. It’s not fair, we have to be adults, be patient, and just freaking wait like normal human beings. Sighs, our bellies are growling, and we must have the goodness! I know, I know, whining just doesn’t cut the mustard. But but but.

Now let’s look at reality side. I’ve been combating the character defect of being ‘cute’ to get better service from folks. I really don’t want the nickname ‘Karen’. I just want to be a regular person, and I want to be the type of person that it is a pleasure to help. I want to be the kind of person that no-one dreads being around. Fighting the entitlement and priveledge sucks. Believe me. I’m no more important than anyone else on this planet. I need to remember this over and over again. I’m not a princess, I’m not a Lady o’ the manor. I’m not wealthy. I’m an older human in a wheelchair.

Yesterday, I ran some errands. I had to ask for help twice. I used the “cute” thing, and now, inside, I’m shuddering. I just want to be normal. How can I ‘be normal’ from a wheelchair? Here are my thoughts. I don’t want to be noticed other than as one among many. There is the urge to be ‘a part of’ rather than one above. How do I go about this?

I do need to apply the steps, however, there is more. The steps are designed to help me to stay sober. To remove character defects that are obstacles in the path of my usefulness to others. The problem I am running into is the 19xx sobriety date. I am out of touch, and beyond out of my mind. The sobriety date is worshipped in sobriety. That’s a major drawback in the culture. The quality of my sobriety is much more important than the quantity of years.

Back to my problem. I need to nudge ego out of the way. I need to take myself out of the equation in the situation. This is rough. I don’t have all the answers. However, the needs I have, to just be one among many, rather than to be unique is so very important. Most of the time, it boils down to being patient.

Do not get me wrong. I am just as guilty as the next person of worshipping the all-mighty clean date. Yet the thing is, I am only doing the things I should have been doing all along.

Back to today’s waiting for my order dilemma. My order did show up late. One of my friends was the delivery driver. We had a mini meeting and a quick smoke together. Even though the order was ‘an hour late’ it was worth waiting for.

That’s about all for now. Take care, please. Hugs. -L

There ain’t no such thing as a free lunch.

Morning all, hope you are well. My beloved made a goulash for his dinner, I have a lovely vegetarian soup. Young Master Duke is outside, barking his head off.

Today’s plan is to bake some beans for myself. I have a pressure cooker, and look forward to cooking. Since I redid the kitchen, I look forward more and more to my kitchen time.

Yesterday I spent the afternoon stitching while I made the soup. My beloved slept all day, and was surly when he got up. Here is what is going on.

His doctors have cut him off from pain medication in any form. Note: I approached one of his doctors over 15 years ago about his heavy pain medication use. I was ignored. I have no doubts that he is in pain. However, he takes his pain out on me.

By the way, my letting his doctor know about the pain med use years ago? Got me banned from going to dr visits with my husband, by the doctor himself. I guess the Dr’s kickback from big pharma was more important than my husband going through withdrawel back then.

Now, we pay the piper. I get it. Believe me, I get it. I live with chronic pain every day. I have medical problems. I get it. My husband is 68 years old now. I had to hide my personal carry and lock it up because I’m worried about him using it innapropriately.

Nothing else I can do. I’m still under the ban from going along on Dr visits. Recovery can never be forced on anyone. And to add insult to injury, it’s taken out on me.

To those who would suggest that I leave. My question is. Go where? My next move is likely to the nursing home. Young Master Duke would have to be put down. I’d likely be put in the same nursing home as my beloved at the same time. I’d probably even be put in the same room.

What solution would that be? There isn’t one. Add to that that the costs of long term care is so astronomical, that we could not afford it.

There is no good solution to this issue, to this problem. I’m a drug addict in recovery living every day with an addict who is withdrawing from pain medication. The irony is not lost on me.

Normally, I won’t talk on the blog about my husband’s addiction. However, the truth is. I’ve lived with this for so long that it is old hat. The reason I lived on the farm with Dad was because of my husband’s disease. The reason I moved to another town for a few months? His alcoholism had reared its head.

I watched as a cop reached for their gun because my husband had destroyed the house yet again. Yet recovery can never be forced on a person. I know for a fact that years ago my husband left recovery because I had it. I had over a decade of sobriety at that time.

The funny part? He’d been going to meetings longer than I had. He would have had…. yada yada. I know. The woulda coulda shoulda’s destroy serenity.

Every day sober, for me, is paid for dearly. I get to watch someone I do love and care for slowly waste away from the disease of addiction. This year, I waited to get my medallion and keytag. Wednesday night, I will sit in the garage and get it via zoom.

This is one of those realities. It’s life. It isn’t pleasant. -L

P.S. There are posts coming up that explain the kitchen rearrangement thing. Sorry.