Wednesday, October 26, 2016

Hello God?

I have a friend who wants to die. What do I do with that? It's not about me, is it? It's about him. His alcoholism. His self destruction. What can I do? Exactly what I am doing now. Praying. Reaching out. Loving him. He doesn't want to be loved right now. I don't care. I will continue regardless.

It's William. He, whose name I said I would never write about here. But I am. He is suffering. I am not suffering. But I am hurting for him. I can't save him.

I didn't cause it.
I cant control it.
I cant cure it.

I can love him. Hate his disease.

Help, God. Help.

Saturday, October 22, 2016

The addict mentality

Faith seems to be fleeting by the hour lately. Could it be due to the fact I am still in Miami? I had not intended to stay this long. Business. a bad cold and some doctors appointments have extended my stay. And this place is toxic.

And my choices are toxic. My alcoholic ex husband is in full disease. He owes me money. Which means *I* was in full disease several weeks ago when I allowed him to use my Sunpass toll thingy AND use Jackson's car. He racked up ton's of tolls and paring charges and of course, promised to pay me back. And lied. He created quite the fabricated story yesterday of how he was going to pay me back, yet didn't. I didn't get upset. It was so obvious the addict mentality.

As my friend Angela says, he has an inability to deal with life.

I am stepping away, once again. Toxic slime is contagious. I am on the way to  my home group now. Then maybe an AA meeting. Re-connect with my people.

And God. He's waiting for me.

Wednesday, October 19, 2016

Coming home to the past

I am still here in Miami. I am staying longer than I expected due to my coming down with a cold. And hopefully visiting some clients. I have visited a ton of friends already and it has been wonderful. Especially Barbara.

Saturday night, one of my former home groups had their 14th anniversary celebration meeting. There were about 70 people there and I asked everyone to write a love note to Barbara. I distributed notecards and paper, pens and asked people to share a fond memory or a funny experience they had with her or just simply a message of love. They came through with flying colors and on Sunday I was able to deliver her almost 40 cards and a stolen centerpiece from the table I was sitting at. (Insert happy face).

I went to her home on Sunday saw how frail she was, using a walker and oxygen, sat on her sofa and the tears just came so heavily. We had made a commitment to each other over four years ago when she was diagnosed that there would be no tears or melancholy, only positive and hopeful outlook to her recovery. We both knew on this Sunday that was no longer possible. So as I broke down into tears I asked her if it was OK to cry. She said yes. So I did. She leaned over to me to hug me even though she shouldn't have because of the germs. She comforted me with the loving acceptance that she knew she was going to be dying soon. There was no talking of the future as in "don't worry Christina I'll get through this". She knew.

After I fell apart I managed to get myself back together again and we talked about lots of fun all times and what's going on with me in my life today. During our visit Jackson called me and I put him  on speakerphone. So that he could talk with his Barbara - his Alateen sponsor for nine years. She was so happy to hear his voice and joke around with him, she had the biggest smile on her face. This is the woman who is so important to us...she is family and it hurts like hell to think this could've been my last visit with her....ever.

I have to find a way to stop making this about me and my loss and instead make it about her and her husband and how can we help and comfort them both. Her wonderful husband Ron is not quite able to accept help from the dozens and dozens of people who want nothing more than to come over to do some dishes, to vacuum, clean the bathroom, and hold both of their hands. He's not quite able to accept the reality that is very, very real. I told him we are here for him. When he is ready.

This visit home has been extremely emotional and brought up a lot of my past. I went to see my old family home from when I was a child. Just walked up and down the street looking at all the neighbors homes, wondering where all of my friends had gone. The reality is the question I should be asking is where have I gone and where am I today? Who am I today? Who have I forgiven from my past and what have I let go? All of these memories and feelings from the past make me very very sad. It's as if I don't want to let go of those days and I wish I could go back and be the kid I was with so few responsibilities and so few fears.

My recovery has taught me that living in the past means entering the world of resentments and living in the future means living in the world of fear. But living in this moment, this now, is where I am safe.

I believe that. It's not easy. But safe is where I want to be. 

Even if I feel sad. Sad is OK. And I am not alone. 


Monday, October 17, 2016

Thursday, October 13, 2016

Barbara H.

My friend, service sponsor and Jackson's Alateen sponsor, Barbara H. is dying.

And I am a mess. I was told yesterday she is under hospice care, her body can no longer tolerate the chemotherapy to fight her stage 4 lung cancer. She was diagnosed over 4 years ago, at stage 4, so I guess her making it this long is a miracle. But I want another one. I want her to live longer. I want her to not suffer. I want her to have every opportunity to live beyond just these 75 years. I don't want her to die.

I have no control. My vote doesn't matter. I am powerless. Fine.

But this cancer can go fuck itself. It may kill her body but it can never kill my memories of what this woman has done to and for my life and my family. For almost 15 years, this woman has been the rock of my recovery, my go-to for anything and everything related to recovery, alcoholism and any and everything I needed help with. She sponsored my then 7 year old son in Alateen, She was the grandmother who loved him unconditionally. She taught him to love himself, told him over and over again how awesome he was, and how proud of him she was. She was there when he achieved every milestone - graduations, holidays, scholarships into college. She cheered us both on, always telling us "I love you, bunches, baby girl". I was her baby girl, and she was my second mother.

When she was diagnosed in 2012, my heart sank and I couldn't breathe as she said cancer. But I sucked it up as she said "we will not do sadness or fear". She ordered that we would be positive and focus on positive healing. "I'm in" I told her. And I was. I never let her see me cry or worry, I kept it to myself as ordered because that is what she deserved. Her diagnosis changed her. For the better. She became more loving, more light, connected in a way the story books promise us. She was in acceptance of her fate yet still fought it. A beguiling dichotomy. She inspired me. And now, she is leaving me.

And I don't know what to do.

So I cry. I talk to others who know her, and I cry some more. Tomorrow I am driving to Miami to try to see her. She isn't receiving many people I am told. But I will try. And if I cannot see her, I will deliver to her the letter I am writing her. To tell her how much she has changed my life, and has given me life. I will thank her in words, but continue to show her in actions how grateful I am. I will go to meetings, sponsor others, and most of all, offer service. She was THE epitome of service in our fellowship. She didn't know how to say no to her beloved Al-Anon family. 

And I don't know how to say goodbye to her.