Mr. SponsorPants

a phone call

The phone rings

SPONSEE:  Hi Mr. SponsorPants.

MR. SP:  Wow ... what's wrong?

SPONSEE: That obvious?

MR. SP:  Ummm ... you could say that.  There's so much sad coming over the line that Evil Old Cat has jumped up on the desk and is looking inordinately pleased with herself -- and you know how much she enjoys the suffering of others.  I should have named her Schadenfreude, come to think of it.

SPONSEE: That is a pretty good name for a cat.

MR. SP: Yeah, it is, actually.  So why is it raining on Planet Sponsee right now?

SPONSEE:  Well ...

What follows is the saga of a good alcoholic who's had a really bad week.  Couple curve balls, couple kidney punches, couple of friends being flakes.  Sometimes it's not the big stuff that gets you down, it's the sum total of all the little stuff.

MR. SP:  Well, it would be raining on Planet SponsorPants if that had been my week, too.  What are your plans for tonight?

SPONSEE:  Well ... I kinda wanted to stay home and just chill.

MR. SP: ...

MR. SP: ...

MR. SP: ...

SPONSEE:  um, you still there?

MR. SP:  You're really going to make me say it?

SPONSEE:  yeah, I guess so.

MR. SP:  Well of course you could stay home ... maybe that's a good idea.  Remind me again, though ... is staying home alone -- I won't even call it isolating, that seems so judgmental...

SPONSEE:  And we wouldn't want that.

MR. SP:  Exactly.  So remind me, is staying home alone thought to be a particularly effective treatment for feeling sad and lonely?  I'm getting old, and I drank a lot as a child, so these things slip my mind sometimes.

SPONSEE:  Okay, okay.  I was half kidding, I'm going to go the the 7 o'clock.

MR. SP:  Half kidding.  Uh huh.  And you know what you have to do when you get there, right?

SPONSEE:  Yeah.

MR. SP:  But this time I will say it anyway ... you have to stick out your hand, say hello to a bunch of people -- best case is to find someone who looks more miserable than you and go and engage them.

SPONSEE:  But ...

This is not a sponsee who offers many "buts" so I patiently hear out the challenges he has with some of the people at this particular meeting.

MR. SP:  <gently> Yes, I understand -- and I can't say those things aren't troubling for me, either.  But at this point in the journey, I mean really, seriously, what choice do we have?  Stay at home and feel worse?  Let it build until it's either a morass of self pity or a tidal wave of resentment?  Stuck or swept away?  When does that ever do anything but lead to some kind of self destructive something-or-other?  And I'm sorry, but now, the hard part won't be going to the meeting and it won't be sticking out your hand.

SPONSEE:  It won't?

MR. SP:  No, because you have practice in those things, and you're good at them.  The hard part will be doing it without expectation.  To go and let the difficult alcoholics, still working through their stuff, be who they are, and to say hello anyway, without a chip on your shoulder or an agenda in your greeting.  The hard part is not to go in keeping score, and expecting that people there will understand that you're sticking out your hand because you're having a tough night.

SPONSEE: ... yeah, okay. yeah.

MR. SP:  But again, what choice do we have?  Go there and punish sick people for being sick?  At least they're sick people who keep returning to a place that offers a solution to their sickness.  Or worse, go there and perform your sadness for everyone, hoping to draw someone in, like an emotional venus fly trap?

Sponsee laughs

MR. SP:  Right?  Sit looking forlorn and sigh a lot, and perform how you feel in an effort to manipulate people into connecting or comforting?  Dear God, save me from that part of me every getting the wheel again!

Sponsee laughs more

MR. SP:  Well now you've done it.

SPONSEE:  What?

MR SP:  Evil Old Cat has vanished back to wherever she lurks ... the sound of the clouds parting seems to have annoyed her.  You know I'll pay for that later.  So we can update the weather report for Planet Sponsee as ... partly cloudy with only a light chance of rain now?

SPONSEE:  Call it partly sunny, with a good chance of sun tomorrow.

MR. SP:  You know there's something to add here.

SPONSEE:  There is?  What's that?

MR. SP:  Because you're in the habit of picking up the phone, because you call when it's not rainy, you didn't even think twice about calling me now, when your general feeling was to be alone and isolate.  That's important to acknowledge.  You do a lot of things right in your sobriety, and this is the result you get.

SPONSEE:  Huh, yeah.  Well ... yay me, I guess.

MR. SP: Yes.  Yay you -- and I suggest you lean into that feeling on the way to the meeting ... it'll be a good frame of mind to walk in there with.  It can never be just about looking at what we don't do right ... we have to keep looking at what we do do right, too.  "An inventory taken only in red ink..."

SPONSEE:  You're quoting now ... I'm gonna go, okay?

MR. SP:  I take it all back!  Stay home!  That's what you should do!  Stay home and wallow, you terrible rude thing!

SPONSEE:  Too late!  No takesies-backsies!  Ha!  Goodbye!

Driving Miss Bobbie

A great, grand, bawdy broad.

She was the first person I got to know well in AA who had come from a violent, criminal background.

When I was new she had probably 8 or 9 years sober, and when she told her story it was riveting -- hilarious and terrifying by turns.  Miss Bobbie loved AA and had earned her seat in spades.  Alcohol, heroin, mental institutions -- when she took a birthday cake she used to crow "No more paper slippers!" and laugh and laugh.  (Someone had to explain to me that paper slippers were what they wore at the mental hospital where she used to stay.  Hmmm ... "stay" makes it sound like a Bed and Breakfast.  How about ... "reside."  Though "be incarcerated" is actually the most accurate I suppose.)

When she spoke about the depths to which alcoholism dragged her, living practically like an animal, actually looking forward to stints in prison so she could get a little rest, she would go on to talk about how the 12 Steps and sobriety had given her dignity, (it sounded italicized when she said it) and her head would come up a little, and you never saw a woman more grand, in the best sense of the word.  Later in my first year, when a man got up to share, his face covered in Kaposi's Sarcoma sores (this was the mid '80's, when it was very bad, and about to get worse), he talked about having to take the bus back and forth to his doctor's appointments, and how he would remember Bobbie speaking of having dignity, when he walked down the aisle of the bus, and people shied away, understandably afraid, and how thinking of her share gave him the courage to get on the bus every day, head high.  It was one of the first times I witnessed how honestly sharing what it was like, what happened, and what it's like now can connect us in a vast network of healing and inspiration found in no other place I know of.

When I was new, Bobbie didn't have a car, and my sponsor was very big on me getting into service right away (smart man) and so I wound up giving Bobbie rides to AA meetings.

The first time I pulled up in front of her apartment, I sat and considered what kind of music I should tune the radio to so that I could impress her.  That was a regular shtick of mine -- before turning the car off I would change the station to something I thought would make you think better of me, so when we got back in the car and I started the engine it sounded as though that's what I had been listening to when I pulled up.  Such a sad, frightened fraud of a boy I was...  sometimes I think having untreated alcoholism is like being a bonsai tree -- sure, you still grow -- life happens, after all --  but you grow with terrible, implacable things binding you, so that your growth is twisted and dwarfed.  At the time falsehood and subterfuge was my best thinking on how to make a good impression.

At first, driving Miss Bobbie was terrifying.  Literally larger than life (she was a woman of healthy appetites, in every regard.  She liked to share that she loved men with, as she put it, "Great. Big. Belt buckles!" and out would come that enormous laugh, so tickled by herself she was) here was a woman who regularly stood up and told the truth!  In front of a room full of people!  And then usually shared some kind of solution from what AA suggested!  I didn't even know what was going on with me half the time, let alone have the ability to articulate it ... and share a solution?  Beyond beyond me.

So I was nervous and intimidated by this sober Force of Nature sitting in the car next to me (it dipped a little when she got in -- healthy appetites).  Naturally, because of my nerves and my newness, I filled the air with chatter, and of course, it was all chatter about myself:

"Oh, Miss Bobbie, I just love when you share, you know, I've heard you talk about some food stuff, maybe I should go to OA, and, you know, that book 'Co-Dependant No More' just came out, and maybe, you know, I should check that out, and then, you know, I have stuff with ... and then there's ... but I also ..."

She was kind, and let me go on for quite a bit.  Finally, though she must have had enough, and cut through all my nattering with advice that may well have saved my life.

AA is not founded on advice, but on the sharing of experience.  At the same time, every so often I have found the Universe gives you your cue, and that night, in that car, Miss Bobbie must have heard hers, and I'll always be grateful she took it.

"HONEY," she said, quite forcefully, to stem the flood of my babble, "Honey ... let me ask you," and she moved her hair up and away from her face, like she always did, "what Program aren't you qualified for?"

Well that was a bit of a shocker, I didn't have an answer to that one.  She went on.

"Why don't you get through all 12 Steps of Alcoholics Anonymous -- you make AA your number one and only -- and then, when you're through all 12 Steps, with one foot firmly planted in AA you can go off and explore all these other programs and issues and get whatever other help you might need -- but all that other stuff won't do spit for you if you're drunk."

Sometimes, you just need someone to give a hard yank on the rope, ya know?

We became close, over the years, and I marveled at her journey and her recovery, as many pitfalls as any of us, some by her own hand, some just a rough toss of the dice.

And she remained sober, and lived with dignity, till the end of her days, and I will always be grateful for that strong, smart simple direction she gave me on the way to the meeting that night.

A great, grand, bawdy, sober broad.

 

Ground Control to Major Tom

Back when I was drinking, my favorite excuse when I was too hungover to show up (for work, for family, for life) was "food poisoning"  -- or the nebulous, impossible to define "stomach flu." 

So when it actually happens in my life today, I always feel a little payment to the Karmic Wheel is being made.  That moment, sometimes out of the blue, when some internal early warning system speaks up.  Uh oh  it says.  And I think to myself ... I'm not going to be sick, am I?  That's ridicu ... uh oh.

Shaking and probably a shade of green, I staggered from the bathroom to the sofa and collapsed, hoping that the worst was over, and whatever had turned on me had been purged.  Evil Old Cat, working her psychic pet mojo, emerged from hiding to jump up on the sofa and pat my face with her paw.  To the unsuspecting this gesture would charm.  I've known E.O.C. for nineteen years ... I have no doubt she was just checking to see, should I expire and she was stuck here with me for several days before being discovered, if, plump and juicy as I no doubt am,  I might need a little salt.

It is times such as these, when sick is sick, violent and dramatic, that I think of the people I know who seem to manage other conditions -- the side-effects of long term medications, the chronic pain of any number of other issues -- with such courage and class.  Lying on the sofa, waiting to see if the waves would recede, I did not feel anything close to being up to the task of finding my courage or my class.

All I could think was that I wished I'd keep a cleaner bathroom to be sick in.

And then, much like my friend who shares, quite brilliantly, about how one day, after he got his car washed, driving down the street he decided it looked like rain, which led to the idea that he always makes these stupid mistakes, which led to ... which led to ... which led to so he might as well kill himself -- from 'it might rain' to 'he doesn't deserve to live' in about five steps -- my not so pristine bathroom was the first domino in the chain of self judgment and self loathing which seems always ready to activate in the mind of an alcoholic.  Knowing that it is not the judging and loathing which marks me as an alcoholic, but rather all the self-ing, does not free me from this process.  In fact (and this has been true for me in several ways in my recovery) knowing what's going on inside me does not free me from the effect of what's going on inside me -- it just keeps me -- sometimes by only a hair's breadth -- from being overwhelmed by it.

This particular series of dominoes crashing down, one after the other, was fueled by my friends from high school.

Against all odds they'd found me (I haven't even joined FaceBook!) and there is a full court press happening for me to travel back to the scene of the crime for our 30th (dear god) High School Reunion.

AA suggests, via our amends in Step 9, that "we will not regret the past, nor wish to shut the door on it."  That has been true for me.  What Alcoholics Anonymous allows me to do is take my life experience, the silly blunders, the staggering alcoholic lapses in judgment, and use them to help other people -- or at least try to.  Our heartache, sickness and humiliation, whether by our own hand or from others, becomes an asset -- rendering even those who've been legitimately victimized triumphant over their pain and trauma, since through the 12 Steps we take it and use it to help others transcend their own.

But I couldn't see that from where I lay on the sofa.  All I could see was how the lime and calcium build up on the walls of my shower were emblematic of a life made small and insignificant by things like 'service' and 'humility' -- my friends -- my close running buddies from those days -- seem to have done pretty well.  "Am I that guy?"  I kept thinking. "Am I that guy who squandered every advantage to keep the party going, and then ... just ... pffft..."

"What kind of life, so entwined with AA, can this be, really?  Am I that guy?  So myopic and dysfunctional that this pathetic excuse for  ... am I that guy?"  My head got stuck on that phrase.  It wasn't envy.  It wasn't regret.  It was doubt -- such an innocuous word -- yet it is the hairline fissure which can shatter faith and end marriages.

The waves of nausea had indeed receded some, but the black clouds just kept rolling in.  I sat up, prompting Evil Old Cat to jump down from her vulture's perch at the end of the sofa and saunter into the kitchen, no doubt to peruse what condiments went best with middle-aged and maudlin (something spicy, I would imagine) should this be just a brief flare of recovery before my final hour.

And sometimes you don't have to ask for help for it to come.  God is not so stingy, it seems.

The phone rang, and I answered without thinking, as is the habit I've taught myself.  I don't even look to see who's calling much, unless I'm in conversation with someone and expecting another call.  If I'm home alone I just answer -- screening calls is the first step to ongoing isolation.

It was one of my sponsees, and he was in a bad way.  "I'm still sober" he kept saying, clinging to that fact in a rising tide of panic and shame and confusion.  I've sponsored him from his first meeting in AA, and we are close.

"Well, that's a good place to start from," I said, "what's going on?"

He told me, and we had a long, emotional conversation, and got things sorted out for him.  At the end of it he thanked me for being his sponsor, and for the ability to have these conversations, and for how they healed.

"Listen,"  I said, "It is truly a two-way street.  And you helped build this thing between us, by showing up, and being honest and willing.  My sponsoring you has been like helping you build an airplane, and now you're flying it, and I'm here in the Tower, and you can radio in any time you have bad weather."

"Mr. SponsorPants, that is a terrible, hokey analogy." he laughed.  It was good to hear a laugh at the end of a conversation which had begun so dire.

"Yeah, but it works for me."  I said.

We ended the call, Evil Old Cat wandered back in and regarded me with her usual disdain for all my foolishness.

"You know what?" I told her.  "I am that guy -- and it's a huge, amazing blessing -- sometimes I just forget."

She remains unimpressed.

And thanks to all for the very kind 'get well' messages in yesterdays comments.

ugh

blogger sick day back tomorrow

Steps 1, 2 and 3 -- the easy way.

So many emails from people new -- or new again -- scaring themselves and making hard work of the first three Steps.

Please, if you're new (or new again) don't let yourself get overwhelmed  -- yes, the first three Steps are very important, but that doesn't mean they have to be very hard to wrap your head around.

At heart they are quite simple.  When I was new it helped me to think of them this way:

1. There's something wrong (really wrong) with my drinking and it is ruining my life.

2.  But I believe (or I'm trying to believe) that AA can help me.

3.  So I've decided to try and do what AA suggests.

If you can take that in, you've got a great, solid foundation to build on.

AA has worked for hundreds of thousands of people -- if you can be honest with yourself it will work for you, too.

Things I learned (or was reminded of) this week. An ongoing series.

Alcoholics can make themselves crazy with virtually no help whatsoever.  An alcoholic doesn't need difficult people or challenging situations to get crazy.  All that is required is time alone with their own heads.

Most people do not know what makes them happy -- what they know is what they think makes them happy.  Learning what actually makes them happy is sometimes a slow and often surprising process.

Prestige is not self esteem.  Acceptance is not agreement.  Powerlessness is not helplessness.  Taking responsibility is not assuming (nor assigning) blame.

Writing by hand slows my thinking to the speed of a pen traveling across the page.  This is always a good thing.

Sometimes the problem may indeed have someone else's name on it, but the solution always has mine on it -- well, actually, mine and God's.

If you believe in your secret heart that prayer won't really help, maybe that's why your prayer isn't helping.

Or maybe the prayer isn't helping because you are praying to change something outside yourself, when the solution lies in praying to change something inside yourself.

Or maybe the prayer is being answered and the answer is "no."  (Or maybe the answer is "not yet" or "wait, I have something better for you.")

Forgive people their armor, they think they still need it.

Maybe you're not anxious or frightened or having a spiritual temper tantrum.  Maybe it's the three pots of coffee.

Sometimes it is extremely hard to separate out the message from the messenger.  This is not only true in the negative sense, that is, when someone I don't like that challenges me makes a good point, but also in the other direction, that is, when someone I want to sleep with that usually inspires me is, on a particular point, actually full of shit.

AA's brilliant, all-inclusive "God, as you understand God" is not about understanding God.  It is about that you need not accept anyone else's interpretation of God for you to work and gain sobriety from the 12 Steps.  This can also include that you do not need to believe in God at all for the process to work.  In such an instance all you need to accept is that in dealing with your alcoholism some outside force bigger than you are is required.

If you read the 11th Step Prayer slowly, and with as much focus as you can, something weird happens inside you -- I believe some people call it a "conscious contact."

It has come to my attention that, if you stay sober one day at a time, you also get older one day at a time.  I think this system is flawed, and should be looked into immediately.  While everyone wants to age gracefully, I believe I would prefer to age glacially.

escapes

"My first addiction was ...

reading."

fantasy."

afternoon television."

On a semi-regular basis I hear people in meetings describe some early coping mechanism as an addiction.

Far be it from me to pick a nit, but when I was new in AA this used to trouble me, and now ... well, it still troubles me, but in a different way.

In my early sobriety, sitting in meetings and literally drinking in what was said, when people described these other, somewhat benign things as "addictions" it actually used to frighten me a little.  Although I couldn't have expressed it at the time, looking back I see what troubled me was that it seemed as though calling these other things addictions softened the whole concept of being an addict.  Like it undermined the gravity of what I called myself (and of course I must pause and point out that it is the consummate alcoholic reaction to think that what those kind souls described about themselves was in any way a comment on me.  In fact, I can remember bristling when people would identify from the lectern, "I'm so-and-so, and I'm a real alcoholic."  From my gut I would react, "Oh, what, and you're saying I'm not?"  NO, Mr. SponsorPants, they're not saying anything about you, they're talking about themselves.  Ego ego ego).

Now when I hear people speak in these terms, I'm troubled for a different reason:  Clarity.

I understand the spirit of what people are saying, when they describe (for example) their childhood fantasy life as "an addiction," but I think they would be better served -- and be more accurate -- to call it a coping mechanism.  An escape.

I do not presume to know what their truth is now or was then, but from what most people describe I think I'm not far off the mark.

For me, the reason it's important to be clear is because when I call myself an alcoholic, or when someone describes an addiction they are suffering from, it is not an idea so much as it is a diagnosis.

That's the point, right?  Every time I say "I'm Mr. SponsorPants and I'm an alcoholic" I am reminding myself that I have a disease (and letting other people in meetings know that I have traveled the same road they have).  I am stating my diagnosis.  And the reason it's important to remind myself of that is not some twisted "look how badly damaged I am" way, but because a chief symptom of the disease is the patient's ability to forget/deny that they have it.

Again, I don't think this is about playing a word game, or people not using the "right" words so much as it is keeping ourselves on point in terms of what we face, and presenting AA's idea about what alcoholism is as clearly as possible to the newcomer.

If people call every escape or habit they have an addiction then I believe it dilutes the important truth that, while I may use some things as an escape more than I should, or some habits become deeply ingrained and require a hard fight to break, addiction is something that I alone, cannot resolve.  I might (for example) have a very hard time stopping biting my nails -- it may be a real challenge to quit, but on my own I can do it.  But a (self) diagnosis of addiction is the admission of powerlessness (on my own) and is the final surrender to the idea that there is no possible way I can stop using/drinking/whatevering without some outside help.  I need medicine for my sickness (disease/addiction).  In this case, I need spiritual medicine for what the book "Alcoholics Anonymous" (AA's Big Book) calls a "spiritual malady."

The first time I make that self diagnosis -- and fully believe it -- is the beginning of being able to hear someone else's suggestions as to how to treat my disease, in the important -- life saving -- progression of admission to surrender to willingness to recovery.

I guess for me it comes down to this:

All addictions are certainly a form of escape, but not all escapes are also an addiction.  Being clear about what is what helps people new to the 12 Step world identify -- or not.  (After all, we're not selling anything.)

That's been rolling around in my head all week -- just needed to get that out.  For the Big Book's discussion of some of these ideas -- basically I'm just riffing on the whole 'real alcoholic' thing -- read around page 21 in Chapter 2, "There Is A Solution."

Cheers!

viewing the body

They're closing a bookstore I used to manage several years ago.

Retail is tough.

Working for a company that sells products with a thin margin is tough.

Put those together and its more than tough squared it's ...  it's a bit like the girl in Rumpelstiltskin -- lots of work to do on a deadline and not really the tools or the resources to do it.  I managed this spinning-straw-into-gold of a store for almost five years.  Worked hard (over the Christmas season I used to sleep at the store).  I loved it there more days than not.

Seduced by the deep discounts on the inventory clearance, and a maudlin sense of curiosity, I went back to do a little shopping and ... view the body, I guess.

Getting the job there to begin with was a true Godshot in and of itself, as AA puts it.

At the time I really, really needed a job.  Having never set foot in the place, one morning I woke up inspired to put on my trusty navy blue blazer and just stop by without an appointment to see if they were hiring. (The navy blue blazer being a man's version of the little black dress -- can't go wrong with it -- unless I suppose you're a man who prefers little black dresses -- I do not judge -- I suggest however that for job hunts you go easy on the crossdressing -- though admittedly HR will consider you one of their more memorable interviews that day, and maybe that will work in your favor).  Why in trying to figure out what to do with my sober life I hadn't thought "bookstore" before is a mystery -- it was a very good fit for me.  In I walk, resume freshly printed, and ask if perhaps they're hiring.  Not only were they hiring, but they were hiring for exactly the job my resume fit.  Three interviews later I was hired.

Let me try and boil this down -- since the result of my time there was some of my best growth using AA's tools and principles:

I was letter A.  My boss was Number 1.  I was letter A, and there was also a letter B and C.  Then there were all the other folks who worked there.

In the course of four+ years I had four different Number 1's.

Every time the job for number 1 came up I would apply...

Well, I'm getting ahead of myself.

My first boss was a flamboyant, eccentric man, who defined the principle that the worst thing that can happen to a person is to be promoted to a job which is beyond their capability.  Brilliant and well read, he affected an English accent and wore scarves almost every day, regardless of the weather.  Sadly, he had the people skills of a persimmon, and after a year of one disaster after another they bumped him down to letter A status at another store.

I applied to be Number 1.  The process went very well.  Everyone acknowledged that without my contribution a bad situation would have been worse blah blah blah. 

But ... they brought in a Number 1 from another store in the company.  An experienced Number 1 was what was needed.

Disappointed but undaunted I went home and did what AA taught me to do.  Wrote about it.  Prayed about it.  Talked to my sponsor about it to make sure I was clean.  Reminded myself that humility is about being right-sized, and that the goal is to be a good worker among workers.  Went in, greeted the new boss and let them know it was my priority to make them a success in their new gig.

We got along great.

This Number 1 was a crash course in eating disorders -- they were a bulimarexic -- what little they ate they put a spoon down their throat to throw back up.  Charismatic and loaded with charm, they were a tremendous leader -- if they occasionally fainted from trying to live on 3 tic tacs and a diet soda for the day ... well, I was there to help.  As is often the case though with people who have ism's, this Number 1 had a little problem with authority.  One too many screaming matches push backs with their boss and I got to interview for the Number 1 job again, almost a year to the date from the last time.

Interviews were terrific.  Everyone acknowledged ... my contribution ... blah blah blah.

Still what was needed for this apparently bucking bronco of a retail environment (I swear, all we were doing was selling books -- it's not like we were matching tissue samples for sick children or anything) was an experienced Number 1, so they brought in another one from another store.

A little more disappointed but still undaunted home I went.  Pray pray write write share share get my head on straight back to the store to be of service.

Lather, rinse, repeat.

What really messed with my head was that along the way they started pulling me out of the store to train other Letter A's and go to special seminars and such.  Plus, in the interim between the old Number 1's leaving and the new Number 1's arriving I would be the temporary Number 1 -- and once over the holiday season, which I really interpreted as a pretty solid vote of confidence.

Finally they decided, after the last new Number 1 left (they each lasted about a year) that yes, a Letter A could indeed handle this store.

So they brought in the Letter A from our sister store up the street.

Devastated.  I was just as disappointed as I've ever been.

So I went home, and I wrote and I wrote and I wrote and I prayed and I shared and ...

when I went back to the store, I realized that while I did not wish the new Number 1 (the former Letter A from up the street) ill, I did not wish them well, either.  That in fact, the best result at this point from inventory and share and prayer was that I did not wish them ill -- but being of service, working to support them ... no, this time it was beyond me.

So I resigned.

I left the job as AA taught me to do -- plenty of notice, not a foul word on my lips for anyone involved, no short-timer attitude all the way up to handing over my keys, shaking hands and walking out the door (head held high, kids. When we stay free of resentment we leave room for self esteem to flourish).  In fact, all during my final weeks at the store my dead sponsor's voice (he who's wise counsel I miss every single day) came back to me loud and clear:  You may be the only example of the Big Book someone sees -- so don't screw it up.  And by that point, working shoulder to shoulder with some of those folks for almost five years, I had broken my anonymity to some of them, so the quote and memory were both apt and important.

"Adventures In Bookselling!"  Not a screenplay that will ever see a green-light, I fear.  From this experience I got 3 very powerful lessons in how the spiritual toolkit AA offers me can work in the practical tug-of-war that a job can be.

1.  As the Big Book says, what working the 12 Steps will allow me to do is to "match calamity with serenity."  It does not mean that by working the 12 Steps I will get to avoid calamity.  It is the childlike part of me that wants to find what Rules the Universe is playing by so I can avoid getting hurt -- or be rewarded for being good (sober).  Getting right with God so that things go your way.  For me that is not spirituality, that is superstition.  AA is full of wonderful stories of transformation and reconciliation and redemption.  Many times people do get a Godshot -- hell, I got one in the amazing timing of getting that job in the first place.  But sometimes you don't get the job.  Sometimes the spouse turns out to be a louse.  Sometimes the coin comes up tails.  When I'm superstitious and not spiritual, that is grounds to shake my faith.  The tools AA offers help me deal with fate, not influence it.

2.  As the Big Book also says, justified anger is the "dubious luxury of normal men."  Sure, there's their side to my story -- for whatever reason, they didn't see me as a Number 1.  But human nature, warped by my alcoholism, wanted me to dwell in my side of the story -- assembling my hit list, keeping score, polishing my put-downs; or worse, wearing my noble acceptance of their decision like a badge of honor, smiling and nodding and playing the martyr, but quietly undermining the people who got "my" job.  That behavior isn't just ugly (though on some sick days perhaps just a little teeny bit fun.  Come on, you know it's true...) for an alcoholic it is a self-indulgence of spiritual sickness which, if you live there long enough, erodes all the hard won recovery we've made.  By writing inventories and praying about acceptance and sharing in meetings and with friends and sponsor, I didn't just deal with the situation -- I was free.  I felt my disappointments and resentments and then was able to let them go.  That's not just helpful, that's invaluable -- that's priceless.

3.  AA's 12th Step includes this: "... to practice these principles in all our affairs..."  By leaning into what Alcoholics Anonymous suggests, at each point in my retail roller coaster (You're in.  No. Wait. You're not.  You're in for a minute but then we need you to step back out.  Congratulations! You're in.  So sorry, out now.) I knew what to do.  I had a road map.  These spiritual tools were literally things I could do to deal with the crazy -- theirs and mine.  "It is a design for living that works in rough going..."  When the poo hit the floo I ...

oh, dare I?

... I knew what to do.

Sorry.  (Hell with you it made me laugh.)

So the other day, visiting for probably the last time, I was sad, walking around that store, to think of it empty, bookless, and done.

Things did not pan out with that store the way I wanted them to, but that did not have to mean that I didn't have a wonderful time working there, with many happy memories and some good friends who keep in touch to this day.

That is a remarkable result for an alcoholic who didn't get his way.

My gratitude for what AA has given me, in the ability to cope (and sometimes even rise above) is a bottomless well, which forever quenches.

Forgive the sentimentality, but if you, reading this, are in any way a part of the 12 Step world, then I thank you -- since in this we are all connected.  Not one of us can do it alone, and you pulling on your oar in your boat helps me keep pulling on mine in mine.

Thank you.

I guess the other six weeks of the year they're out of the country.

An article (link here) at BBC News details the statistic that adults in Scotland are drinking the equivalent of 46 bottles of vodka each in a year -- which is just shy of one bottle a week.

I guess the other six weeks of the year they're out of the country.

Vacationing.

In wine country.

(Bah-dum-bum.)

Anyone who spends some time in AA will hear personal stories that detail drinking far more than that -- a good sized bottle of vodka a day is not uncommon for the hard core drunks among us (individual mileage may vary) -- but as a national statistic a bottle of vodka a week does give one a moment's pause.

Apparently part of the issue is that there is no "minimum price" for liquor set by law, and it is possible to buy a bottle of alcohol at a supermarket cheaper than a bottle of water.

More than 20 years sober, and when I read that my mouth started salivating a little.

Swear to God.

When the book "Alcoholics Anonymous" describes us as "bodily and mentally different from our fellows" it is not kidding.

How To Drive Yourself Crazy in a 12 Step Meeting

If you've been sitting in meetings lately feeling quietly irritated, I have something to tell you:

Considering all the personalities involved, the routine, the suggestion that you give back and actually participate as a part of the regular 12 Step meeting environment, well, if all you're feeling is quietly irritated then you're just not trying hard enough.  You should be far past irritated and well into livid.  You should be driving yourself crazy.

But that's not always easy -- after all, there's lots of examples of recovery around you.  Many 12 Step rooms are filled with tolerant, patient people, willing to listen and ready to help.

So, as a service to the mildly irritated, I've put together this handy 10 Point "How To" guide for driving yourself absolutely crazy in a 12 Step meeting:

1.  After attending for several weeks keep track of who shared more than once over the course of your attendance, and the next time they raise their hand to share allow yourself a barely audible "tsk" and refuse to listen to whatever they are saying -- just dwell on the fact that they're sharing again.  (If they're working through something particularly painful be careful that your sympathies are not aroused.  Should that start to happen begin counting how many people are in the room, and focus on how this person is taking up time someone else might have used.)

2.  Begin finding ways to listen for the differences between yourself and everyone who speaks during the meeting.  Focus particularly on specific details in their story ("They're from Baltimore.  I hate Baltimore -- and I've never even been there -- they have nothing to say to me") and try not to listen when they talk about their feelings around their drinking, using, alanon-ing, over/under-eating, etc.  Try to say "I've never done that" to yourself as many times as possible during their share.

3.  As you listen to people, decide that what they're sharing should be in a different kind of 12 Step Program than whatever kind of meeting you're in.  "Oh, that's not alcoholism, that's _____ " or "That's not _________ that's alcoholism."  Also helpful is to judge shares as "too much like a therapy session" and decide who should take it to a therapist and who shouldn't.

4.  Whenever people mention how much time in recovery they have, sort them into two categories:  If they have less time than you, disregard everything that they say, no matter how insightful it may sound.  If they have more time than you, take as absolute fact everything that they say, regardless of how it sounds.  Work hard on this one, it's like Miracle Grow for your going crazy.

5.  Another great way to grow your irritation into crazy is to stop listening to people and count things they say instead.  Try counting how many times they say "ya know" or "like" ... if they're fairly well spoken, see if they have a particular gesture you can count, like running their fingers through their hair or tugging at their shirt.

6.  If you share, spend the rest of the meeting listening for whether anyone says anything about what you said -- if they do, try to feel violated and mutter "cross talk" to the people around you -- if no one does, indulge yourself in feeling either rejected or judged.  (Or both, if you can manage it -- wait!  What am I saying!  You're in 12 Step ... of course you can manage it.)

7.  Do not say hello to anyone, and avoid eye contact.  Then after the meeting leave quickly.  When you get home call someone not in recovery and tell them how cold and clique-ish 12 Step meetings are. 

8.  If a speaker has a certain amount of time to speak, say 20 minutes, for example, pay close attention to the clock.  Keep track of how long they talk about their "ism" and how long they talk about their recovery.  Try to think in terms of "too much" and "not enough."

9.  Keep track of any and all mistakes people who do service at the meeting may make.  Think about how much better you might be at whatever they're doing, or at least think about how they could do it better, but do not offer to help -- just sit and think.

10.  If you have a sponsor, and they're in the same meeting you are, share during the meeting, constantly checking their face for signs of either approval or judgment.  Wait after the meeting for them to praise or criticize you -- feel hurt and rejected if either or neither happens.

And there you have it.  If you do only a handful of these on a regular basis you're sure to eventually make yourself absolutely nuts every time you sit down in a 12 Step room.  But I'll be the first one to admit that if you keep coming back it can be hard work to really put these into practice -- if that's the case, just remember, it's a "we" program -- if you really want to kick start this process, I recommend sitting in the back of the meeting where it's hard to hear, with other, like-minded individuals.  Nothing helps you judge like being part of a jury!

Good luck, and say hello to everyone at the bar for me!

Cheers!