Writing Prompt: Better Late Than Never

 Prompt: Write about a victory in your recovery.

Better Late Than Never

I guess that turning 50 could be considered a milestone birthday, and for me that was especially true. For it was at age 50 in 2017 that I finally, finally set aside both alcohol and marijuana and committed to living a completely sober lifestyle. I had made that completely tragic mistake of thinking I could exist on the marijuana maintenance plan, without booze, and I did that for over a decade but all that got me was repeated hospitalizations and a nearly destroyed marriage. It even led me to an alcohol relapse, but what was I expecting? But when I was 50, I knew without a shadow of a doubt that it was time to get off this roller coaster and face the music.

I wish I could tell you it was easy setting all the substances aside, but unfortunately for me it wasn’t. I was hit with a crushing wave of anxiety, so fierce that I knew I needed to consult with a medical professional to get medication to help manage it. That first year of sobriety was brutal, probably made more so because I hadn’t yet returned to AA for the critical support I needed in my sober journey. I made do with some mental health support groups I had joined on Facebook, but honestly I wish I had made my way to an AA meeting instead.

I would eventually find my way back to AA in 2020, during the height of the Covid pandemic. After confronting my fears of the new Zoom technology that overtook the world in a storm, I got up the nerve to join a Sunday night German Village AA Zoom meeting, my very first Zoom and no small victory for someone extremely nervous about rejoining AA and also petrified of Zoom bombers and the mysteries of this new technology I didn’t understand.

I can’t remember if I kept my camera on or off when I logged onto the meeting, probably off because I was terrified and I know I definitely didn’t speak. But I was immediately comforted by the format, it was a two topic discussion meeting, and I felt bolstered by the fellowship which always comes through at an AA meeting. I no longer felt isolated and alone in my attempt to stumble through recovery, setting aside white knuckling it as I had been for three years for the warmth of a group of alcoholics and addicts trudging along the road together. 

One person on the meeting said so many things that resonated with me. His name was Shawn and he posted his telephone number in the Chat. I wrote it down, too terrified to contact him initially, but wanting the number just the same. I knew from my prior experience with AA over the course of two decades that having phone numbers was key to recovery. Finding this Zoom meeting and finding Shawn, whoever he was, seemed very important and in hindsight I know it was my Higher Power looking out for me.

So for me, it was certainly a Better Late Than Never scenario whereby I didn’t clean up my act until I was 50, and didn’t make it back to AA until I was 53. I meet recovering individuals much younger than me and get protective, I want to help them avoid making the mistakes I made with marijuana, save them from all the wasted years I had. But I guess we all have our own journeys, filled with pitfalls and victories, no matter how small. I’m now completely comfortable with Zoom technology, and Shawn is now my sponsor. I’m extremely grateful for my sobriety, and keep movin’ along. One day at a time.

Writing Prompt: Fall-ing

 Prompt: Write about your favorite season.

Fall-ing 

I woke up slightly chilly this morning, grateful that I remembered to sleep with a quilt over me last night. That’s when it hit me—Fall is in the air, and I felt giddy with this knowledge. Call me an indoor cat during summer, I hate the heat and hole myself up inside in the AC all throughout June, July and August. But here we are, I made it to September, and temps are now in the comfortable 70s and I’m ready to burst out of the house. Fall has always meant relief for me, relief from the blazing hot summer, as well as opportunity for my creativity to come shining through. 

Yes I’m Fall-ing, and that means taking Basset Lily for long meandering walks down the streets and alleys of my neighborhood. I can enjoy going to parks with my husband. It will soon be time to start making soups, buying apple cider and making apple pies. I may buy a pumpkin and decorative gourds to display on our porch. Out come the long-sleeve t-shirts, light cardigans, and other comfy clothes to relax in. I love it all.

Fall also means football, and I’m an emotional, quasi-lunatic fan of the Ohio State Buckeyes. Brainwashed to be rabid at birth by my parents, I am heavily invested in every game each Saturday, to the detriment of my nervous system should my team lose a game. I expect perfection, never get it, and make meaningless promises to myself after the game is over that I will not be so emotional in the future. Sure would be nice if I could just Let Go and Let God do his handiwork; it would save me a lot of grief and anxiety over outcomes I can’t control. 

We discussed turning it over in our sponsees’ Zoom this week, and I think for me my obstacle for doing so is Trust. I get worked up because I don’t trust the football coaching staff knows what they are doing; and likewise I don’t trust that God will handle things for me. Maybe though this particular Fall I’ve made some progress, maybe my continued work on the Steps is bringing me closer to the serenity I seek. Sponsor Shawn directed me to Chapter 11 in the 12 and 12, told me to read about prayer and meditation when I asked how I might strengthen my relationship with my Higher Power. That’s my assignment for this week, and I’ll get to it hopefully before Saturday’s football game.

In the meantime, I’m getting ready for a morning walk with Lily, I’m finishing off my coffee and getting ready to lace up my sneakers and head out. The air is crisp outside, I’m excited, I’ve got energy again and I’m happy. I quietly recite the one prayer I know by heart, the Serenity Prayer, as I prepare to head out and enjoy this beautiful Fall morning:

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.

Growing Up

There has been a dramatic shift in how I’m now interacting with my 83 year old mother. I realized a few weeks ago that I can no longer use her as a dumping ground for my anxiety attacks; she just doesn’t have the energy to walk me through my fear anymore, she doesn’t want the anxiety I cause her weighing on her anymore. I told Fetter last week I have no choice but to grow up, and quickly. He gave me his copy of the classic 1970s book, “I’m OK, You’re OK” which I’m going to read to learn how to parent myself. God knows this was coming, I’m 57 years old, and I’ve had 6 years contending with anxiety substances free. I’m in AA, I’m on Gabapentin, I have an excellent talk therapist, I’ve got the supports to muddle my way through. It’s time to let go of mom, and indeed I need to prepare for caretaking her now.

I’m scared though, in a way, worried again that I’m alone, that I don’t have the strength to manage my affairs. I know my husband is here, yet I don’t trust that we are safe; I had terrible nightmares last night that we were victims of crime and I awoke, heart pounding, upset, swearing I wouldn’t watch the news anymore. Got my morning dose of Gabapentin in my system and now I’m feeling somewhat better, and wondering if I just had something to occupy my time, like a volunteer job, maybe I might feel less stressed…but then again probably not.

It’s cooler this morning, signaling Fall is coming, and I’m relieved I made it through another uncomfortable summer. I’ve got plans to meet friends for dinner this month, I’m even going to a concert! Peter Gabriel, I’m thrilled to go hear songs from my youth, but I’ll be careful to watch out for getting overstimulated and if it gets to be too much I’ll leave early. I’m relieved that I’m going to this show completely sober and stable, no mania making me act inappropriate. I know my cohorts will be in their cups, but no, not me. 

I guess I’m ok with my medication, still feeling a little muddled and blunted from the antipsychotic but I’m tired of pushing for reductions Dr. Levy doesn’t want to give. Oh well, just stay the course Melissa, enjoy this stability even though you’re sedentary. I can read, I can write, my memory isn’t too good but I can live with it. I’m cooking, that gives me incredible pleasure. Things could be better, but things could be much worse, so I’ll accept where I am as the way things were absolutely meant to be.

OK, that’s it for now. Just call me someone going through growing pains. Yeah, I guess that fits.