Needs and Wants

The past two days of meetings I've attended have been on the 3rd step. When this happens, I just assume that God is trying to tell me something. I know that when things are getting scary in my life, I can looks towards the 3rd step to tell me God is taking care of me and everything will be ok.

Also, when things are going well, and I don't feel like doing the right thing, the 3rd step reminds me that I'm sober and only have the great life I have today because of God's grace.

Frequently, I get confused between what I WANT and what I NEED. I want all kinds of things, new shoes, clothes, money. God give me what I need. Friends, food, meetings and more.

I heard a woman once say that fear is the distance between what I want and what God is providing for me.

Maybe I'll remember that today.

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Lying

So yesterday I called the Department of Education (eek!) to tell them that the job I moved for hadn't started yet.

When I hit my bottom a couple of years ago, I had stopped answering the phone. Because of this, my student loan poeple thought that I had tried to run out on my loans and I ended up getting marked late several times. Eventually I got it all straightened out.

So in order to prevent this sort of mishap, yesterday, I called them to tell them I had moved. I told them I moved, and then they asked me if I had started work, I said no I hadn't, and that was it.

Easy loan payment delay.

Easy phone call.

Except I lied. I started at a temporary job about a week ago. I haven't gotten a paycheck, and out of fear of them asking for payment, I lied.

Funny, I thought, that was easy. I didn't even feel bad or anxious. For almost an entire thirty seconds. I thought, that was a real easy lie. But it wasn't.

After that thirty seconds, I felt anxious, I felt depressed, I felt scared, I felt frustrated, I felt unhappy. And what's more, I felt as if I had ALWAYS felt that way.

Cunning, baffling, powerful. I had created a crack in my recovery for my disease to slip in. And it did. Like a flood.

I called my sponsor almost immediately and left a message telling him about the lie. I put the lie on my 10th step for the evening. This morning, my sponsor told me to share about it at a meeting.

Today I'm going to call and correct the lie. And I'm going to go to a meeting and talk about how I called someone to tell the truth, and then lied.

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The Plan

In 2nd grade, I told my teacher Mrs. Bunch that I was going to be a doctor and live in Vine, Florida. I had even picked out a hospital to work at.

Going to rehab was definitely not in my plan.

As an alcoholic, surprisingly, I love making plans. Sitting in a new class, I'll already be planning the award speech I'm going to make when I when the prize in my newly discovered field.

When I plan, I plan big. And extravagant. And with paparazzi. There are teleprompters and flash photography.

So far, nothing since getting sober has actually turned out the way I planned. And that's a good thing. Thankfully, God has other plans for me.

Even though the glitz and the glam I imagine may seem big to me, relative to God, my imagination is small.

I have called it "alcoholic tunnel vision" before. I WANT this apartment. I WANT this job.

Am I am constantly reminded that God has bigger and better plans for me than I could ever conjure up for myself. God provides what I NEED.

Today, I am happy. And that is something I also never planned for.

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What if

IWhat if work is too busy today?

What if I can't go to meeting I want tonight?

What if I can't pay the rent this month?

What if I can't go to Ocean City next year?

What if the child I get five years from now has a learning disability?

What if I have cancer?

In the Living Sober book, there's a good passage on "The If Trap." This mainly talks about what if's in the context of drinking.

Early in the morning though, sometimes my mind works like this, even without the alcohol. Big what if's...little what if's...

And one of the funny things is, I don't even have a consequence usually. These are tricks my addict brain plays on me so that I will feel overwhelmed. My disease LOVES me in that space. Why? So I can drink.

Funnier, if I kill myself (by drinking), I'll never find out.

What if.

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Meditation and the Box

So today I went to an 11th Step Meditation meeting for the first time ever. For the past two years of my sobriety, I've basically avoided them, mainly because all the people I've ever met that say they love meditation meetings seem f*****g crazy.

I imagine they love them because they don't have to share, and because it fits in with that false sense of spirituality i was after when I took acid all the time. Contempt prior to investigation comes to mind now.

I went, and it was nice, although the lady chairing the meeting was playing an audio track from her iPhone and someone called towards the beginning of the set.

The meditation itself created imagery for us to use while meditating. At first I didn't want to shut my eyes, but I did soon enough. Two imageries stand out to me, the first was writing my worries in the sand on the beach and letting the waves wash them away. I might actually try this soon. The second was a box, which contained something we wanted very much.

Curiously, I couldn't think of anything to get out of the box. It had a nice big ribbon on it, but basically nothing inside. Vaguely for a moment I thought a bike might be nice, but something so trivial hardly seemed worthy of having meditated for twenty minutes to get it. So I stuck with nothing.

We did the typical mild stretching and letting ourselves become aware of our surroundings at the end, and then the sharing began. One guy had a picture of his father in the box, another his kids. Unusual for me, I refrained from sharing. At the very end a woman raised her hand and said she also had nothing in the box.

Does this mean we're perfectly happy?

Does this mean I have a limited imagination?

Like a good alcoholic, I'll probably spend at least part of the rest of the day or week trying to think of something to put in the box for next week.

Yep, next week.

Meditation has been a constant challenge for me since I first encountered my 11th Step a year or so ago.

Like many things in my sobriety, if it makes me uncomfortable, it's probably a good idea for me to participate a little longer.

Keep coming back.

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The Geographic

So it's been less than two weeks in my new city.

Today, looking around, I realize why the geographic never works.

My apartment, though different, in ways looks the same.  Has the same feel.  Has the same clothes.  I eat the same food.  Go to bed around the same time, wake up around the same time.

Luckily, I wasn't really looking for a change by moving, because I wouldn't have gotten it.

My friends are seeming different, but I'm willing to bet that soon they will seem the same too.

Which is great, because I miss my home.  Today I'm glad for my program, because I know wherever I go, there it is.

I've heard this said another way before.

Geographics don't work, because wherever I go, there I am.