September 1, 2005


  What a day! I hope I don't lose any readers, but this is after all, my daily journal. I share my experience, strength, and hope the best way I know how. I also share my heart, which suffered some more heartache today, but bear with me---there is a lesson in it.

  I'm beginning to feel like the harbinger of doom and gloom, but this is my sad tale: I was driving home today from picking my car up at the shop---about a half mile from home-- when I spotted something on the side of the road. It was a small dog. My heart sank as I pulled over. She became frightened by my car and I saw her in my mirror trying to move. Her back end was paralyzed so she had to drag herself with her front legs.

  After what happened just yesterday morning, I fell to pieces at the sight of that. Too sad, too soon. I cried out "Why me Lord?" and totally lost it. I was draped over my steering wheel sobbing and wailing and asking him why when the answer came.

  "I gave you a new life through grace. I gave you AA and the fellowship which has taught you love and tolerance. It has shown you how to let go of that toxic anger you are swallowed up by right now. It has placed you on the Road of Happy Destiny with the Sunlight of the Spirit shining on you. It has given you worth and serenity. By your own proclamation, you are a 'happy alcoholic.' The answer to your question, Why me? is because I knew you'd stop. Now get out and do what has to be done."

  No, I didn't hear a booming voice; the words were spoken to my heart. I got out of the car, got the food and water out that I always carry with me, and I poured her a bowl of each. I petted her and assured her I'd be right back. Then I came home, got a box and a towel to put in the bottom, drove back, and I put that sweet girlie inside as gently as I could. Her look of gratitude almost sent me into another crying jag, but I took a deep breath and told her what a brave, beautiful dog she was.

  I called Animal Control when I got home---they will come after hours if a dog is sick or injured---and I sat on my porch with her until they came an hour later. I spoke softly to her and stroked her chin and ears. They came and took her away as gently as I had picked her up. I knew she'd be euthanized, but at least she wouldn't be suffering anymore.

  I'm weary and I'm still sad, but I am sober and quietly comforted by that thought. The anger and self-pity are gone and I'll make it to the other side of this stronger and wiser. I turned my will and life over to Him in Step 3---taking it back is not an option now and for that I am grateful.
 

September 2, 2005


  It was a good day. There were no tears, no anger, and no heart break. My co-sponsor called me this morning as I was getting ready to go and work for my husband. I talked to her about the mini-breakdown I had yesterday and she had some wise and wonderful things to say. My burden was lightened considerably by the time we hung up.

  Isn't it funny how sharing something makes the owies better? It's true what they say about sharing.......it takes the power away from whatever has you under its control. Just speaking the words aloud is liberating---the demons are tamed and the heart is free. Thank you Miz C!

  There was an insane instant yesterday---a nanosecond--when I thought "I could really get drunk over this." Injustice to helpless animals or children used to fuel my drinking fire. I would tell myself I just couldn't bear the pain of this cold, cruel world, so like an ostrich sticking his head in the sand, I'd hide in my booze, hoping the world would get itself straightened out while I hid away, but things looked even bleaker and gloomier when the alcohol wore off.

  Funny thing though, since I've stopped drinking, the world doesn't seem so cold and cruel. There is beauty in it I never noticed when I was drinking, and there really is more good stuff than bad. I chose to see the ugliness when I practiced my disease because it gave me more excuses to keep drinking.

  Today I am grateful my eyes and heart are open to see the roses instead of just the thorns.

 

September 3, 2005


  I think I've touched on the study of imprinted alcoholism in the Muse before, but my recurring amnesia (har har) prevents me from remembering how deeply I delved into the subject. I don't even have access to the article, I can only go by memory, and the "ah...that explains a lot" sentiments I felt when I first read about it.

  Imprinted alcoholism is just what it sounds like--the behaviors without ingesting the drink, imprinted on others by a practicing alcoholic. Speaking for myself and my wacky family, I can see how I was imprinted by my alcoholic mother, as were my sisters, but I was the only one of 5 girls who got the real McCoy. Their imprinted alcoholism manifested into other damaging dysfunction, but we all got the insecurity, low-self-esteem, defiance, loneliness, self-absorption, self-centeredness, and all the other not-so-endearing qualities of an alcoholic.

  I can also see how I, in turn, imprinted the disease onto my own family, back at my mother, into my sister's lives, and all over my husband and children. Holey Moley! It's like a whole clan of dry drunks.

  Today I am grateful I am imprinting recovery on my family.

September 4, 2005


  Prescription for wounded heart: Take a 5 and 7 year old brother and sister, mix with a lady who's heart needs healing, and wait for miracle cure.

  God is good. He sent two rugrats my way today to show me how to belly laugh again. It only took one hug, one smile, and one "I love you" to begin the process of filling those holes I developed in my heart this last week.

  Two hours before our mare died, I called my co-sponsor to tell her I couldn't make the morning meeting and why. I had grabbed my cell phone on the way to the pasture without conscious thought of calling anyone from AA. I wanted it to call my husband and daughter to keep them posted on the mare's condition.

  In retrospect, I can see how vital and necessary that call was, and that it was Divine Intervention that led me to make that call. It connected me to AA for one thing--my lifeline, my support, and my sanity saver. I didn't even realize at the time how much that call helped me---it was like preventative medicine. The empathy and love in her voice helped me through the ordeal; it calmed me. Just knowing she knew and she would tell the others gave me comfort. Like high-wire walkers and trapeze performers, I knew I had a safety net.

  Today I am grateful to be grounded.

September 5, 2005


  "And we have ceased fighting anything or anyone--even alcohol." (Big Book, page 84)

  Not only have I ceased fighting, I don't want to fight anything or anyone, a trait that is most uncharacteristic of my former self. Being an alcoholic teenager in the late 60's was a time of sheer confusion for me. One week I was a peaceful hippie with flowers in my hair and the next week I was getting expelled from high school for fighting.

  I marched against the Vietnam Conflict as we carried signs that read: Make Love Not War, and War Is Unhealthy for Children and Other Living Things, but I was a foul-mouthed, confrontational, rebellious, defiant, punk kid who called policemen Pigs and loved to hit people. Sheesh....what was that about? Obviously the word 'hypocrite' was not in my vocabulary and I stayed in that confused state until I came to AA.

  Today I still abhor war, but the battle that takes priority over any other is my fight for sobriety. I can't dwell in morose melancholy over who's killing who in this world or why. What does the Big Book say? "We try not to indulge in cynicism over the state of the nations, nor do we carry the world's troubles on our shoulders."

  This doesn't mean I am to be apathetic. It simply means I shouldn't permit myself to become obsessed or depressed over something I have no control over. There is a scripture that reads: Do not worry about anything, instead pray about everything. And so I do. If I didn't, I would still be fighting everything and everyone.

  Today I am grateful I waved the white flag of surrender, for in doing so I became the victor and the spoils of recovery are indescribably delicious.

September 6, 2005


  "Avoid then the deliberate manufacture of misery, but if trouble comes, cheerfully capitalize it as an opportunity to demonstrate His omnipotence." (Big Book, page 133)

  Hurricane Katrina has certainly created horrendous destruction, trouble, and misery in many thousands of lives. The human beings who were victimized by the storm did not manufacture any of it. We, as survivors of our own inner hurricanes and raging storms can demonstrate God's power and omnipotence by helping those unfortunate souls in whatever capacity we are able. We can pray for them; we can donate to the Red Cross or the Salvation Army; we can watch our local news stations and read the newspaper to find out where to take supplies and donations; we can go online and find avenues to help (Recovery Times has phone numbers and links)---there are many ways to show we care, and that we understand their desperation and hopelessness. We can give them hope and encouragement. We can be of service to our brothers and sisters in recovery by finding out if Big Books or 12 and 12's are needed and where we might send them.

  Please take a moment today to stop what you are doing, close your eyes, and pray for the men, women, and children who are hurt, angry, stunned, grieving, and suffering from the effects of this devastating tragedy. Let's pray together at noon, California time. You can choose your own words, or join me as I say this prayer:

  My Creator, I implore you to give courage, strength, and hope to the victims of hurricane Katrina. I ask that you let every man, woman, and child feel Your loving arms around them. Guide me in the way that I might best be of service to them. I offer this prayer in Jesus name, (that's the way I end all my prayers...please don't be offended)

  Thy will be done. Amen

September 7, 2005


  "An honest regret for harms done, a genuine gratitude for blessings received, and a willingness to try for better things tomorrow will be the permanent assets we shall seek.

  Having so considered our day, not omitting to take due note of things well done, and having searched our hearts with neither fear nor favor, we can truly thank God for the blessings we have received and sleep in good conscience." (12 and 12, page 95)

  Honesty was not my strong suit when I was drinking, nor was willingness. I wasn't genuine either. As I've said before in this forum, I was a fraud in every sense of the word. I never searched my heart because I knew it was dark, lonely, and cold in there so I just drank more whiskey so I wouldn't have to think about it; to face those self-truths and realize who I was and where I was headed.

  I am aware that alcohol really messes with our bodies--our blood sugar, our hearts, our blood pressure, and so on, and I know it causes insomnia, which I suffered in the extreme as a practicing alcoholic, but I think my conscience was the primary culprit for my inability to fall asleep, or stay asleep after passing out.

  I notice even today, that when my evening inventory is good and when I'm not agitated, resentful, ashamed, or guilty, I sleep like a baby. I sleep in good conscience. If one teeny tiny thing is gnawing at me; if I have a wrong un-righted, or if I have a personal issue unresolved, (usually that means a marital squabble) then I toss and turn and battle insomnia all night. I wake up looking like I tied one on the day before--dark circles under my eyes, 30 new gray hairs, and a crop of new wrinkles, or so I imagine. I feel hung over and sluggish.

  Thank God for this program that offers a remedy for emotional hangovers and specific instructions on how I can avoid them. I like the end of that first paragraph---a LOT. "Better things tomorrow shall be the permanent assets we shall seek."

  I'm grateful for the willingness to try.

September 8, 2005


  Finally, I have sat myself down to Muse! I was so tired last night when I got home-- it was after midnight--that I fell into bed without posting a daily Muse, however, I was too tired to feel guilty about it and slept in good conscience. So deep was my sleep, I think I was semi-comatose. I awakened this morning at 8:30, very uncharacteristic for me, fed the birds, cats, dogs, threw a hat on my wild hair and out the door I went for that much-needed, vital, spirit-lifting, life-saving, sanity-preserving woman's meeting.

  Ahhhhhhhh---I feel so much better now. I'm centered and not so discombobulated. I'm oriented to my surroundings and my sobriety. I barely remember the actual drive this morning to the meeting, so frazzled was I from making the transition of coma to commuting in a mere 10 minute period.

  The meeting was awesome! I love the women of AA! They never fail to get me out of myself and off the pity pot, if I happen to be on it. They bare their hearts and souls from a place inside them so honest and deep, I feel honored and privileged to be invited there. Mixed meetings are great, but I can only imagine, or maybe hope, that men's stag meetings are to men, what the women's meetings are to me.

  Personally, I don't share my deepest, darkest, scariest thoughts and feelings in a mixed meeting. The atmosphere is different somehow. Sitting in a room of the same gender creates a freedom unhindered by sexual tension, self-censoring, sexism, and all those other Mars/Venus distractions. At least that's how it is for me.

  Today I am grateful I am Woman and I have a place to roar.


September 9, 2005


  Last year my 77 year-old father, my Pops, had major surgery. He suffered for two years with excruciating pain in his lower back, completely in denial, before he went to the doctor. Tests revealed a tumor the size of a softball nesting against his sacrum and he was scheduled for surgery. A biopsy revealed the tumor was cancerous and that fragments of it remained in his body. After considering alternative treatments, he eventually opted for radiation and is now cancer free.

  My son was diagnosed with severe ulcerative colitis at the age of 17. By the time he left for college at 18, he was so ill and weak, I thought I'd never see him alive again. He was on prescription meds for nine years, but his condition remained serious, and at times grave. Finally, he got off the roller coaster of prescriptions because they weren't working and saw an acupuncturist who was also a licensed herbalist. He went into remission six months into the treatment, and remains symptom free today. He continues to take the pills and treatments because he knows they work. There is no cure for his disease--he still has it and always will, but he is doing what he knows he must do to live.

  On September 23rd, 2001, I was knocking on death's door, then I walked through the doors of Alcoholics Anonymous. Like my Pops and my son, I have taken whole measures to save my life and become asymptomatic of my disease of alcoholism. Oh, I know the disease is still there, and I know there is no cure, but it can and will remain inactive as long as I l do what I know works.

  Today I am grateful for another daily reprieve and 3 years, 11 months, and 16 days of remission from active alcoholism.


September 10, 2005


  I heard someone share at a meeting one time that being an alcoholic in early recovery was like emerging from a cocoon. She said that if you help the butterfly when it breaks free of the cocoon by spreading its wings, it won't be able to fly, for it is in the struggle to complete the metamorphosis that the wings of the butterfly become strong enough to take flight.

  Now I'm no expert on entomology, but I am an alcoholic and I know that nobody could get or keep me sober but me. I had to struggle before I could fly. Unlike the butterfly, I had wise sages, mentors, and guides to show me the way. The butterfly functions by instinct, but alcoholics, according to the 12 and 12 "defy their instinctive desire for self-preservation" when they drink, so we need help--not someone to spread our wings for us, but someone to tell us how they learned to fly.

  That was just a random thought that crept into my mind earlier this evening as I sat on the back patio watching the Swallowtail and Monarch butterflies flit through the back yard searching for blossoms. Oh my gracious they were beautiful!

  Today I am grateful for the struggles that make me strong.



September 11, 2005



  The Big Empty. I didn't even know what that was until I came to AA. I didn't know it described my insides and that I was trying to fill that Big Empty Hole with alcohol. It may as well have been the Grand Canyon though----booze was never going to fill it up.

  I was living a lonely, joyless, shameful life. My love, my Lord and Master was Jack Daniels, and as I mused a long time ago, he and I were joined at the lip. I was his mistress and slave and woe be to those who would try and come between us.

  The woman that Jack built became vicious and hateful. She inflicted pain and misery on those she loved, but she herself was the intended target. Every time that woman wished her husband dead, it was she who really felt she deserved to die. Every time she stabbed someone in the back, it was her own heart into which she really wanted to plunge the dagger of death.

  That woman hasn't shown her face around here in a while and I hope she stays gone. Today, a Happy Alcoholic named Nan lives here. The Big Empty has been injected with serenity, contentment, and joy. The first thing God infused into my heart was Hope-- then AA, the women, the fellowship, and the work filled the void the rest of the way up.

  Today I am grateful I have the Big Full--no, not the Big Fool, that would be my husband. (just kidding) It's a glorious day to be sober!
 

September 12, 2005


  I didn't think about it until I read a letter from a wonderful Step Sister the other night, but I have some anxiety and trepidation about my son moving back home in two days. We haven't really done the Sober Dance with each other yet. Since my daughter lives close by, she and I have had lots of time and opportunity to let our true feelings emerge, and we have begun our relationship anew, starting from scratch. For the last 1,339 days we have fought, cried, laughed, reminisced, pondered, explored, analyzed, scrutinized, discussed and delved into my alcoholism and all it encompasses, past and present.

  Not so with my son. I've never really heard his side, nor has he heard the whole truth and nothing but the truth from or about me (at least the truths that won't injure him or others). He has played the part of the ostrich since I got sober (he told me the day after my first AA meeting that I had never wronged him in any way...merciful heavens!---must be selective amnesia) and I have played the part of the 3 monkeys that hear, see, or speak no evil. Oh, the subject has come up many times, but only superficially, nothing deep.

  It was probably the grace of God that allowed me to clear up the wreckage with my daughter before I take on the task of clearing the wreckage with my son. Today, I am grateful for that.

September 13, 2005


  It was a good day to be sober today. I went to a noon meeting, which was festive and upbeat. There were two birthdays to celebrate--a one year and a four year. I don't know the man who took the year chip very well, but I know the man who took the 4 year medallion. I'll never forget the first time I heard him share about checking into rehab on 9/11/01 and turning on the TV to see the chaos and destruction taking place in New York. He said "Thank God I have an airtight alibi!" Now that's what I call an alcoholic!

  Boy oh Boy! I remember those days when I was wreaking havoc. I had alibis down to a fine art. I spent a lot of time and energy making up stories, lies, and excuses. Sheesh! It was exhausting! I would become ensnared and tangled in my own sticky web of deceit, trying desperately to extricate myself.

  Keep It Simple--what a concept! My life is so much easier now that I don't have to keep track of all that poop I shoveled out.

  Today I am grateful that AA has uncomplicated my life.

September 14, 2005


  I've been thinking about the topic at yesterday's meeting--relationships. Our leader asked for input from the room on how to have a healthy relationship in sobriety. I thought about it throughout the day yesterday and here's my experience on the subject.

  During my first year, or perhaps even two--oh all right, make it three--(after all, it is a program of rigorous honesty) my marriage was on shaky ground and I'm talking at least a 6 on the Richter scale. I celebrated my 30th wedding anniversary 2 weeks after I came to AA. After the pink cloud dissipated and the "ding-dong-the-witch-is-sober" honeymoon ended, we fell back into old behavior--screaming, blaming, fighting, making up, withdrawing from one another, and indulging in "sulking and silent scorn."

  It was our pattern--a pattern we established due to my drinking.
I would call my sponsor and whine "What's the use? Things will never change. He's still the same Big Turd he always was, blah blah blah." And then she would say, "Things will change when YOU change and just because he throws that ball at you doesn't mean you have to throw it back."

  Eventually, I began to heed her suggestions and NOT throw the ball back. I avoided confrontation and argument. When he exploded, I didn't explode back. I practiced "love and tolerance." You see, dysfunction was all we knew--it was normalcy for us. Our 30 year marriage was storms followed by calm waters, followed by more storms.

  Here's the miracle part. Things really began to change. When I spoke to my husband with kindness, he reciprocated with the same (well, most of the time) and the relationship began to improve. It's still a work in progress, but I know that by letting God control me, it creates a strange paradox and I control, in a sense, the storms, or lack thereof.

  One more thing, and I'll wrap this up--I know it's lengthy but I want to add this. When we gather as alcoholics, I notice that we, for the most part, treat each other with respect, courtesy and kindness, so consequently we get along quite well, wouldn't you say? I think that's all our spouses, partners, parents, children, and siblings want. After all, they may not be alcoholics, but don't they deserve the same treatment that we give each other?

  Today I am grateful I don't have to throw the ball back. I just strike out when I do that.

September 15, 2005


  "We no longer strive to dominate or rule those about us in order to gain self-importance. We no longer seek fame and honor in order to be praised. (12 and 12, Page 124)

  It was all about me me me when I drank. I needed the limelight and I wanted to dominate the household. The house and all the decisions made in it had to be approved by the Great and Powerful Nan--in my mind only of course. In reality, I couldn't manage anything; not the checkbook, the house, and especially my life.

  I needed praise constantly; Not only did I toot my own horn and sing my own praises, I also wrote the book on how to fish for compliments!

  We alcoholics can manipulate and twist things around so that everyone is guilty except us. I did that all the time. I had to make someone else look guilty to draw the focus off of me. I had to tear someone else down so that I'd look better.

  I do seek honor today, but not fame. I seek integrity and I don't need praise. My ego requires very little food, thank goodness! It used to cost a fortune to feed it, but now it settles for crumbs when it used to require steak and lobster.

  Today I am grateful I don't have to be anyone. I can just be.

September 16, 2005


  This Muse has been simmering in my head all day and it is time to serve it up.
After my women's meeting this morning, I started thinking about all the What Ifs my life has been ruled by. In our Book Study we have read the story in the back about the alcoholic who lived his life with the feeling of "impending doom" and I have mused before that I lived my life that way.

  What if my brother hadn't died when I was 19? What if I lost one of my kids? What if my husband kicks me out when he can't take my drinking anymore? What if I have a brain tumor? What if I get cirrhosis of the liver? What if I'm killed on my way to the store to get more whiskey? What if a meteor hits? What if we finally have that BIG earthquake? What if the Rapture takes place and I'm still an agnostic? I kid you not...these were my thoughts! What if What if, what if?! And guess what folks? None of those things happened and I spent an enormous amount of time worrying that they would. The IF stood for Irrational Fear.

  Today, I do my darndest to live in What Is. I have so much to be grateful for today. My sobriety is; God is; my happiness is; the moment-- this moment is. What is, is what I have. I know--this is all starting to sound a tad silly and confusing, but I have a sneaking suspicion that you will understand. What is, is reality. The IS stands for In Serenity. It is my family, my friends, my home, my music, my animals, and everything I see, hear, smell, taste, and touch. What Ifs are delusions, paranoia, terror without cause or reason, anxiety, and monsters under the bed.

  Today I am grateful for the Spiritual Sisters Group. You always give me good food for thought.

September 17, 2005


  Today is my precious daughter's 34th birthday. I remember her 30th very well. We took her to dinner and I had arranged a surprise party there for her. I drank wine during the day instead of my usual Jack Daniels, because I didn't want to ruin her party. That took an enormous amount of self-control, the last bit I had I suppose--not to be drunk by noon because the party was at 6:00. I used wine or beer for maintenance only--just to "get by" until I could drink the way I needed to.

  Two days later my husband got on a plane to fly to Oklahoma. It was one week after the airplanes crashed into the Twin Towers. Thus began my last drunk; one that lasted 5 days. I made the conscious decision to hopefully die of alcohol poisoning before he returned but God had other plans for me. On the 24th of September, 2001, I limped in to my first AA meeting-- defeated, desperate, and as downtrodden as I had ever been in my life.

  Four years later, I have come full circle; resurrected and reborn. My children, who vowed they would NEVER live in Bakersfield again are back. One is living in my home and the other is 2 doors down. (That'll teach 'em to never say never!) Coincidence? Accident? Twist of Fate? Not on your life My Friends! It is God's will working in my life because today my life's work is His will.

  It is a prayer that was prayed 4 years ago being answered in His time, not mine.

  It is part of my journey through this amazing thing called Recovery.

  It is the result of working the Steps and "completely giving myself" to the program.

  It is because I found sisters, mentors, and angels who helped me learn how to live.

  Today I am grateful I am alive and sober on my daughter's birthday.

September 18, 2005


  "There are many things worse than dying, but is there any death worse than the progressive, self-induced, slow suicide of the practicing alcoholic?" (page 457, 3rd edition, Big Book)

  My answer to that would be "no."

  I can't imagine a more emotionally and spiritually painful death than that. Everyone involved in an alcoholic's "self-induced, slow suicide" is in anguish for years, sometimes decades. Our loved ones have to watch the progression while we kill ourselves. We are consumed by guilt, knowing what we're putting them through. So we drink some more.

  Round and round and round we go--where or when we stop, nobody knows. My heart aches for my family sometimes when I try to imagine how heartbroken and frustrated they must have been with me--how angry and resentful they were and how utterly sad they must have felt.

  They don't elaborate on the subject. Perhaps they don't want to remember the pain, or maybe they are helpless to find the words. It could also be that they don't want to heap any more guilt onto my shoulders--I just don't know. Someday, when all the wounds have become scar tissue, maybe they will tell me. I know now that there is a Master Plan, but whether or not that conversation is a part of that Plan, I couldn't say. I reckon I should just stay out of His way and mind my own beeswax.

  Today I am grateful for today--for What Is. I am spending the entire weekend working with my family outside--building fences, clearing brush, passing gas, working our butts off and laughing our heads off. Life is good.

September 19, 2005


  I told a Friend in Sobriety that things went pretty smooth here this weekend with my little family reunited--that nobody had killed anyone else, there were no divorces, and nobody had gotten drunk or loaded.

  I know, as well as I know I'm an alcoholic, that none of this would be possible if I were still drinking. In the first place, my children would not have moved back here. One is living in my home, and a two and a half acre parcel separates me from the other one. There's a miracle for you!

  We worked together all weekend, up close and personal. It was incredible and amazing. I asked God for patience, even though someone in the program once said "don't pray for patience--you'll be sorry because God will give you lots of stuff to be patient about." However, I knew that person had never worked along side my husband, so I took the risk. Here's an example: He looked in his big storage box on the welder today for his gloves and only found one, so we set off to search for the other one. Ten fruitless minutes later, I headed back to the welder and started to open the box when he said "I already looked in there." I said "I know Dear, but I have a feeling." I looked inside, moved something, and there was the other glove. I'm telling you, if it doesn't jump in his arms, he can't find it!

  My sponsor will tell you that I was NOT patient the first couple of years of my sobriety. I wanted Primrose Lane and I wanted it NOW!!! I'm grateful I finally and truly gave everything over to the God of my understanding so that He could work the miracle and the healing could begin. I'm grateful that He has given me this second chance at Life. And I'm grateful I can go to bed now and "sleep in good conscience."

September 20, 2005


  "It is truly awful to admit that, glass in hand, we have warped our minds into such an obsession for destructive drinking that only an act of Providence can remove it from us." (12 and 12, page 21)

  The dictionary defines providence as divine guidance or care. However, it points out that if the word is capitalized it means God.

  Only an act of God could remove my obsession for destructive drinking. Should I ever drink again, it won't be an act of God--it will be an act of Nan, and an extremely stupid one at that. I know now that destroying myself with alcohol was never His will, it was mine.

  My desire to live now is powerful. I cringe with shame at times when I recall the suicidal thoughts, threats, and attempts--attempts that were halfhearted or staged, and those that were genuine. However, I don't dwell on the doom and gloom of my past. I acknowledge the shame, then let it go and vow to learn and grow from it.

  Life is so sacred and precious, I want to embrace every minute of my time here. Every breath I take is a gift--a glorious, exquisite gift.

  We had a yard sale many, many moons ago. I had some old 45's out on a table and the hot sun warped them. Some of them looked like a curled up tostada bowl and others were melted into strange shapes that looked nothing like their original form. That was me on alcohol--warped so badly that I didn't resemble the form God intended me to be.

  For the record, I am grateful today for Providence.

September 21, 2005


  "God, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, the courage to change the things I can, and the wisdom to know the difference."

  That prayer has sustained me for almost four years. It applies to every situation, person, place, or thing. With all that's going on in my life now, and all the changes transpiring I also ask God to grant me the serenity, courage, and wisdom to accept change.

  Many alcoholics are stubborn and resistant to change. I know I was, but of course fear is at the root of that. I was fearful of change in the past, but now I welcome it with open arms. I am coming to trust that everything is happening as it should, when it should. I am excited to find out what's next--what gifts and miracles await me. I'm like a kid sneaking down the stairs on Christmas morning to see what Santa brought.

  I want to see what life has to offer-- to bask in the glory of breathing sober breaths and to break out of that shell I languished in for so long.

  Today I am grateful for the change in me and the wonderful changes to come.

September 22, 2005


  I've been thinking a lot lately about trust--even mused about it recently, and then today's topic at a meeting I went to was 'trusting God.' My favorite share of the day was from an awesome man, an old-timer with 30 plus years who has inspired me since I came into the program. He is super-intelligent--I swear he has memorized the whole Big Book; he was a philosophy professor, and he is well-read and articulate.

  Today he shared about being an atheist when he got sober and how he "came to believe" in a Power greater than himself, who he chooses to call God.
I shared that I came in as an agnostic, but when the chips were really down; when I had gone as far down the scale as I could go, and when I was desperate and defeated, that it was God I called on for help. Imagine that!

  A highly educated atheist and a self-proclaimed, militant agnostic--both believing and trusting in God. Who'd a thunk it? I trusted from the get-go because I didn't know what else to do. I just blindly followed the ones with light in their eyes and smiles on their faces.

  Today I am grateful for Bert C.

September 23, 2005


  I mentioned in the last Muse that I haven't had to drink since I got into recovery. However, I didn't say I haven't wanted to or thought about it.

  When I was 90 days sober, I had a terrible fight with my husband. I was extremely hurt and VERY angry. I slammed out of the house, leaving a trail of dust behind me. I stopped at the first store that sold liquor and bought a half gallon of whiskey and two 16 oz. bottles of coke.

  As I sat there in my car with smoke coming out of my ears and a knife in my heart, I plotted my next move. OK, I can drink this here and God only knows what will happen, or I can go get a hotel room so I'll have a place to puke and pass out--OR I can go back home and get plastered in front of that no-good-rotten-scoundrel, but one of us would surely end up dead if I did that. Hmmmm--decisions decisions.

  All of a sudden I had the thought that I didn't HAVE to drink that whiskey--option number 4. Lines from the Big Book were dancing in my head like sugarplums.....they were line dancing actually--I think it was the booze scootin' boogie. Gee, what a concept--I don't HAVE to drink. So, that thought being thunk, I drove to my sponsor's house and rang her bell. Thank God she was home! She took one look at my snot-nosed, tear-streaked face, then her eyes fell on the bottle I was clutching and she took it from my arms and said "Get in here."

  I told her my sad, dramatic story while she sat patiently listening with rapt attention. She asked me this question when I finished: "Would drinking make things any better?" I shook my head. With her help we figured out that I wanted to punish my husband. The old "I'll show him!" syndrome.

  Hello! What's wrong with that picture???? And how many dad-gum years did I waste doing just that? Too many to count, that's for sure. We talked for a couple of hours then went to a meeting. I was calm and peaceful when I left.

  Today I am grateful for the sentence that began the dance in my head that night: And with us, to drink is to die.

September 24, 2005


  I sit here drained; utterly exhausted yet overwhelmed with gratitude, amazement, and love. I am not weary from physical labor, no--it's something completely different. I am spent emotionally and embracing every second of it.

  Today I took my 4 year medallion. That in itself would be enough to get my adrenaline pumping through my bloodstream, but the day was filled with such incredible bliss, I think I went into sensory overload.

  My son asked me yesterday if he could attend my meeting with me today--out of the blue he brings it up as I'm driving him to the mall. I wanted to cry with gratitude but I didn't want to kill us on my birthday eve so I choked back my tears. He said he hadn't been here the last four years to support me so he wanted to be there when I took that chip.

  My co-sponsor and mentor Miz C took a 28 year chip today--more emotion to squeeze into my crowded heart. Then there was the outpouring of love and support in the room--birthday cake, cards, countless well-wishers, and last but in no way least, my Circle of Women. Some were there in spirit only, and some were present. They are the women who keep me sober; the women who have become so near and dear to me I can't put it into words. My heart was bursting and filled beyond human capacity just looking at their beautiful faces.

  It was difficult to share without crying--I couldn't do it. My heart overflowed and the excess spilled over and exited through my tear ducts. I am so very blessed and tremendously grateful for this day. The mere fact that I am alive is a miracle, but to actually be living and loving life is unbelievable.
Thank you God.

September 25, 2005


  "To keep a lamp burning we have to keep putting oil in it." (Mother Teresa)

  To keep my sobriety kindled, I have to keep putting fuel into my head and heart. The Big Book and 12 and 12 are pretty high octane--I need them to run smoothly. Meetings are the lighter fluid that flic my bic and give me the burning desire to not drink.

  And the Women--the Wise and Wonderful Women are the lamps. They light the way for me; they illuminate my path with experience, strength, and hope. If I wander too far from them, I won't be able to see their glow. Darkness will surround me and I'll become lost in the shadows.

  Today I am grateful for the oil and the lamps.

September 26, 2005


  "All I have seen teaches me to trust the creator for all I have not seen." (Ralph Waldo Emerson)
Amen, Mr. Emerson.

  I am living my life one day at a time on faith and trust. What I have seen and experienced over the last four years has taught me that I do not need to see tomorrow, next year, or twenty years into the future. When I let God drive, the road is smooth, the blessings come, and the miracles happen. When I take over the wheel, I inevitably hit something; a pothole, a brick wall, or any number of obstacles because I didn't see them. It's because I trusted my "finite self" instead of my "infinite God."

  Throughout my daughter's pregnancy, she has been adamant about a natural home birth with a midwife. She doesn't want drugs and she doesn't want an epidural or episiotomy. She has taken birthing classes and practiced hypnotherapy and other relaxation techniques with her husband by her side every step of the way.

  She has also seen a doctor who expressed concern midway through the pregnancy about the placenta, and a potential health risk for her and the baby. She was advised weeks ago to schedule a C-section. We all, that is myself, my daughter, son-in-law, son, and my husband decided to take it one day at a time and trust that all would be well.

  A few days ago she had an ultrasound and lo and behold, the problem has disappeared! It doesn't exist anymore and the doctor says there is no reason she can't have the birth she wants.

  I can explain that miracle with the chorus of a gospel song I love to sing that goes like this:

It's too late to tell me God is not real
It's too late to tell me He has no power to heal
Much too late to tell me there's no Power Divine
When He's already saved a poor old sinner's heart like mine.

  Today I am grateful I have learned to trust.

September 27, 2005


  "Be not afraid of life. Believe that life is worth living, and your belief will help create the fact." (William James)

  Alcohol in an alcoholic's bloodstream is the elixir of death, depression, and desperation. The Big Book says that we are "in the grip of a progressive illness," and I have firsthand knowledge of that fact. I can look back at my 30-year drinking career and see how it progressed and worsened every year.

  Alcohol made me afraid of life and convinced me life was not worth living. I realize now that life really wasn't worth living as a drunk. What did I have? I had nothing. Inside me was a vast emptiness. I had no friends, and my family was disgusted and ashamed of me. I had no self-worth, no self-respect, and no goals. I teetered on the edge of reality, unable to discern fact from fantasy. My head played out huge dramatic scenes over and over throughout the day as I drank, so that by the end of the day, I believed my irrational thoughts.

  Someone shared at a meeting last week that they were addicted to fantasy and many of us in the room had an "Aha!" moment. As a reclusive drunk for the last 15 years of my active alcoholism, I spent thousands of hours drinking alone. How could the mind survive such isolation and inactivity unless it created something to thrive on? I could write an entire book on the story lines my head created and conversations that never took place. My God....it was like solitary confinement! You see these poor guys in movies coming out of solitary all scroungy and crazed--babbling and drooling, or downright catatonic--Yikes! I'm blessed I made it out of solitary alive.

  Today I am grateful I no longer live like a hermit.

September 28, 2005


  "We are not in recovery to change the world, we are in recovery to learn how to function within the world." (Keep Coming Back)

  I'm so glad I only need to change myself and not the world. I'm also thankful that recovery has taught me how to function in this world I cannot change. The wonderful paradox however, is that the more I change, the better the world looks to me--as if my recovery IS changing it.

  I had become extremely cynical and pessimistic about the world. My home was the cave I retreated to escape the entire human race and all the evil "out there." I stopped voting because "it didn't matter" and "all politicians were crooks anyway." I withdrew from society, just like the Big Book said I would, but I was very vocal, most of the time profanely so, about all that was wrong with the world.

  Here's the sad and brutal truth--I was just too darn lazy and selfish to care about the world or to learn how to function in it. All I wanted to do was drink. The world could have gone to Hell in a hand basket, been blown to bits by a giant meteor, or disappeared under a big mushroom cloud and I wouldn't have cared. I was so sick and twisted I would have died clutching that bottle.

  Today I'm grateful that world matters do matter.

September 29, 2005


  I heard early in my new life that I must chase my recovery with as much energy as I chased my disease. Piece of cake! I am totally and completely addicted to sobriety. I'm high on it--floating in a Utopian dimension to which no drink ever took me. This is most assuredly the "easier, softer way."

  I am addicted to meetings; to the Big Book, the 12 and 12, and all the handy, dandy little daily meditation books I can get. I'm addicted to the fellowship; the beautiful, loving women and the true gentlemen who are interested in helping me stay sober, not helping me out of my clothes.

  I'm especially addicted to joy and serenity--I could overdose on that, in fact I do every day with no dire consequences.

  I'm addicted to living, and for that I am profoundly grateful.

September 30, 2005


  Sometimes I feel so serene it's frightening. I ask myself what will happen if that serenity is shattered. I allow my mind to wander into forbidden territory, which for me is anything beyond the day, or even the moment.

  I force myself to snap out of it and back to NOW. I resolve to savor those moments and deposit them in my memory bank so that I can make a withdrawal in the future. Someday I may need to tap into that resource, for tomorrow is a mystery and not for me to ponder or fret over.

  There is a poem I love that I found in Ann Lander's column many years ago called "Comes the Dawn." It was written by a young woman going through a painful breakup. There is a verse that says: So you build all your roads on today because tomorrow's ground is too uncertain for plans and future's have a way of falling down in mid-flight."

  Amen to that.

  Today I am grateful for serenity, be it fleeting or perpetual.