Mr. SponsorPants

a further sign of health

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

well, trying to conquer it never really worked, so... might as well!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

i take my inspiration where I can get it

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

a psychic price

 

 

 

 

 

One of the problems with being a people pleaser is that you are in a constant state of low grade dishonesty.

Afraid to tell your truth -- often completely out-of-touch with what your truth even is -- every interaction is based on a reflexive fear of any kind of conflict whatsoever.

We may tell ourselves we're nice, or that we mean well, but the truth is often that we are simply afraid to play it any differently. In fact for some of us, we actually lose the ability to. 

(It's not courtesy, tact or diplomacy if you're afraid to be clear. Or, conversely, if you have to work yourself up into a hysterical rage to finally be honest, and then spend the next 24 hours apologizing and passive/aggressively asking everyone if you're a terrible person, just so they can reassure you that you're not, you are equally trapped in fear.)

As a people pleaser, at the end of the day I have no integrity. 

And there is, for lack of a better word, a psychic price one pays for that.

 

Mr. SponsorPants

 

 

 

 

 

Anne doesn't believe it for a second

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Jealousy always has been my cross, the weakness and woundedness in me that has most often caused me to feel ugly and unlovable, like the Bad Seed. I’ve had many years of recovery and therapy, years filled with intimate and devoted friendships, yet I still struggle. I know that when someone gets a big slice of pie, it doesn’t mean there’s less for me. In fact, I know that there isn’t even a pie, that there’s plenty to go around, enough food and love and air.

But I don’t believe it for a second.

I secretly believe there’s a pie. I will go to my grave brandishing my fork.

 

Anne Lamott

"Grace (Eventually): Thoughts on Faith"

 

 

 

 

runners and fighters

 

 

 

runners and fighters are two sides of the same coin

(but you knew that already).

both are reacting to fear

by lashing out or getting out.

fighters get to brag a little, though.

it's kind of cool to be scrappy,

until of course you attack the people

closest to you.

 

I think runners

have some shame around

the run.

 

people make movies about fighters.

these movies have "hell YEAH!" moments.

 

when there's a movie about a runner the story is a pitiable one,

mostly.

 

unless the runner turns into a fighter.

then it's "hell YEAH!"

 

and sure, sometimes fighters run and sometimes

vice versa.

but most of us have a pattern ingrained over our

panic button.

 

after writing the inventories and

talking to sponsors and listening to

shares and sharing the stuff

ourselves we eventually see some sad truths for alcoholic

runners and fighters:

the runners leave places they would choose to stay in if they

had the ability to choose

(instead of being driven. all flight no fight)

 

and the fighters are lost in

distracting

compensating

battle with people who often aren't even

there anymore.

 

they're not even fighting the

people they think they're fighting.

 

maybe it's time to stop.

 

 

 

scrambling for security

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

right in the face

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

WHOOSH

 

 

I said a long prayer last night.

I said "I surrender."

 

I said "I surrender again."

I said, lying in my bed,

in the dark,

to the dark,

because that's what prayer feels like sometimes,

it feels like you're just

talking out loud in the dark

to the dark.

(The first impediment to authentic faith: Mocking the process. I always get my back foot caught trying to clear that hurdle.)

 

I said

"I surrender again. Really. I can't. Here. Take it."

And I began reading from The List In My Head.

 

The List contains all the things that I want

to surrender but

I am afraid to.

The List is like a collection of fears and doubts about

all the stuff

I can't live without

or think I have to have,

that I have to figure out

how to keep or get

"if I only manage well."

 

It doesn't help

or it doesn't matter

that the list is reasonable:

health shelter sustenance the ability to

make my way in the world yet again.

"I surrender. Again."

I want to use The List's very reasonableness as a bargaining chip,

something like,

"Come on, it's not like I'm asking for THIS, I'm just asking for this,

and thus

You should accommodate me."

Apparently that's not how it works because

if it did I would have been

well accommodated

long ago.

 

And also

apparently,

performance art surrender,

the surrender which contains the tiny hidden tumor of

manipulation,

The "Okay, okay, NOW I surrender.

So... since I did... now I get what I'm asking for, yes?"

that doesn't work, either,

apparently.

Because if it did, well,

see above.

 

So I lay there in the dark, and I closed my eyes,

and I paused in my List to let all the

weird purple swirls behind my eyelids

fade away

and then I pictured an altar with a fire.

A pyre.

And I went down the List, and with each item I said

"Take it. Take it." and I fed it to the fire.

 

"I'm afraid I'll lose the apartment, and I'll have to move, or worse, but... Your will be done. Take it. Take it."

and WHOOSH I fed it into the fire.

"The job interview. Even just... the job... Your will be done. Take it. Take it."

WHOOSH I fed it to the fire.

"My bum foot... my health... Your will take it take it."

WHOOSH fed to the fire.

"My relationship. Your will. Take it."

WHOOSH Fire.

The long list of petty and grand fears and hopes and expectations and then

more fears.

"Your will. Your will."

"Okay."

WHOOSH

"Take it."

WHOOSH

WHOOSH

WHOOSH.

 

My spirituality can slide pretty easily into superstition, which is just the frightened part of me trying to find the recipe for how to get God to do what I want. Along with that is the fear that if I surrender something -- truly surrender it -- then the worst possible outcome -- the outcome I fear most -- has now been given cosmic "permission" to manifest.

Which is not just trying to manipulate God, it's trying to play God too.

 

It would be so great to be able to write here,

to share with you,

that after this burning prayer I felt that "great clean wind of a mountain top blowing through and through."

An impact sudden and profound.

But my List is long, (I can be very frightened, sometimes)

and I fell asleep as I offered it,

WHOOSH WHOOSH hush

hush

and dreamed of clean flames and great love and things I won't share here.

 

It was the first good night's sleep in a while.

And I felt a lot better in the morning.

Make of it what you will.

I know what I believe.

 

 

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 There are more writings like this in "Mr. SponsorPants: Adventures in Sobriety and The 12 Steps for AA's and Others."  Available as an eBook via Amazon.

 

a natural reaction