Morning Musings

 Hello there. So the Celebration of Life yesterday went very well, I went up to the podium in front of 120 people and delivered my piece to rousing applause when I finished. My voice was strong and clear, I was so proud of myself, and amazed that my anxiety was completely controlled. It reminded me of the me of the old days, when I was confident and full of energy, unafraid of public speaking. I’ve come so far, and I credit my doctors, and therapist Matt, and my family, and the sobriety I’ve worked so hard on these past 7 years.

Today I’m calm and relaxed for the most part. I did awake with some mild panic about the cluttered state of my house and the outside, but I managed to set that aside, and just enjoy my coffee. I have plans to pot the annuals we purchased last week, it’s a beautiful day outside today, cooler temperatures that I like. We are grilling Chicken Teriyaki tonight, it’s been marinating in the fridge overnight and smells wonderful.

So I am gardening today, tomorrow I have therapy then I’m having dinner out with some friends from high school. Thursday I meet with sponsor Shawn to reflect back on the Celebration of Life, and continue my work on the AA Steps. I hope to continue to chip away at my household chores, and maybe start walking again in the morning. I know Matt will be prodding me to get active, and Michael is on me every day to increase my step count. I need to press myself more.

All in all, I feel better than I have in ages. Progress has been made. I still need to do some more ART sessions with Matt, specifically I have great anxiety driving on highways, which was made worse by an experience I had driving in manic psychosis during my last episode in 2022-2023. I know Matt can help me, and I’m sincerely grateful I found him. 

Ok, time to get going with the planting. Onward I go. It’s great to be sane and sober. Hooray!

Jessica Celebration of Life

This month we lost a beloved member of our AA family, dearest Jessica M. Beautiful and newly-married to Dan, Jess was solid in her AA program, a loving mother to two boys, and successful in her work. She touched many people in the recovery community, evidenced by the number of people gathered tonight to celebrate her. She certainly impacted me, and I’m honored for the chance to tell you what she meant to me.

I knew Jessica for three years, she was initially referred to me by sponsor Shawn when I got up the courage to meet him for the first time at a Starbucks on S. High Street, just outside of German Village. When I confided to Shawn that day that I was contending with a dual diagnosis of alcoholism and bipolar disorder, he suggested I get in touch with a close friend of his, Jessica, who had the same diagnosis.

That night, I reached out to Jessica and we spent a good hour sharing information about ourselves. I felt an instant connection to her, and it was such a great relief and blessing to be able to talk about the sometimes intense struggles one encounters when trying to manage substance abuse recovery and a mental health condition. I told Jess I had spent years feeling ashamed of my bipolar disorder, and that my active alcoholism only worsened my mental health and hastened my arrival at rock bottom. She responded with some of her own experiences, which comforted me because I knew I was not alone.

Knowing how challenging it is to manage a dual diagnosis, to put it candidly, I was in awe of Jessica. She often talked of experiencing homelessness and for a time losing custody of her children, yet regaining her footing through sobriety and the Steps, sponsorship, and regularly attending both AA and Alanon meetings. Jess navigated dual diagnosis recovery, plus childrearing, plus a challenging job and marriage. That’s a whole heck of a lot. And she gave it her all. 

Jessica was often invited to tell her story at Speaker meetings, where she freely gave the gift of her calming strength to those listening. That was the thing about Jess. When she spoke, you listened. Not everyone can command that kind of attention. I’d like to think of it as a special gift she had, though there was a lot of hard work she put into her AA program that shined through every time she spoke. How many people did she touch? Many.

I would come to find out that Jess offered safe harbor and counsel to many people in our AA community dealing with a dual diagnosis. She was our kindred spirit, she walked in our shoes, she even went out of her way to make referrals for outside help if that was requested. I’m here because of her wisdom and guidance, and my sobriety is stronger because of it. No one can question Jess’ commitment to AA and her AA family. Jess was dedicated. And that’s something all of us should emulate.

The parting words I have for Jess tonight are simple: Rest easy now, dear angel. Your work here is done. We miss you, our friend and confidant. And we are sincerely grateful to have known you for the time we did.

An Update

So it’s Memorial Day Weekend, 2024, and I’ve recently turned 58. I report I am feeling good, bipolar and anxiety are under control so I certainly cannot complain. I’m a finely medicated machine I guess, plus I’ve got a good therapist Matt who is gently shepherding me along. Stress is low, sleep is great. Marriage is solid, sobriety is firmly in place. Is this the AA Promises coming true? 

Speaking of AA, on Monday we are holding the Celebration of Life recovery meeting for Jessica. I have written the piece Shawn wants me to read, discussing my dual diagnosis of alcoholism and bipolar (which Jess had as well). There will be four of us speaking, I’m kinda nervous, Shawn said he is expecting between 75-100 people there. But I’ve been rehearsing my piece, which isn’t too long, so I should be ready.

I’ve completely given up on my morning walking, it’s been hot outside and I don’t tolerate the heat well. I’m mad at myself, I’m back at square one, sitting in this stupid brown recliner all day. Michael keeps at me to increase my step count, Dr. Levy keeps prodding me to join a pool, and I just ignore them both. Is it the meds or am I just a really, really lazy person? I’ve never thought of myself as lazy, I shudder at that label. No, I’m pointing to the 4,000 mg/day of Gabapentin I take for the anxiety plus the 4 mg/day of Risperdal. That’s an elephant tranquilizing dose. It’s no wonder I’m a sedated lump.

I’m keeping up with my cooking, but it’s harder executing things. I’m tempted to slightly dial back some of the Gabapentin but when I tried that before, things went downhill. So I’ll just continue to fumble my way through things as best I can, accepting that these side effects are the trade off for being able to stay stable and sane. 

So aside from the disabling meds, I guess everything is ok. I have a roof over my head, food in the fridge, my family is healthy. The psychotic manic episodes are a thing of the past—for now—and the depressive episodes haven’t bothered me in years. That’s something to be grateful for and I don’t take that lightly. I’m very lucky, I know that. Good things are coming. One day at a time.

A Loved One Lost

 This past week we lost a beloved member of our AA family, dearest Jessica passed away, from an overdose. She was only in her 40s, a beautiful newly-married woman, solid it appeared in her AA program and seemingly successful in her work. I’m left feeling heartbroken, and thinking about her husband Dan and her two young sons by another marriage.

I knew Jessica Dallas for three years, she was first referred to me by sponsor Shawn when I got up the courage to first meet him at a Starbucks on S. High Street, just outside of German Village. When I confided to him that day that I was contending with a dual diagnosis of alcoholism and bipolar disorder, he suggested I get in touch with a close friend of his, Jessica, who had the same diagnosis.

That night, I reached out to Jessica via text, and we spent a good hour sharing information about ourselves. I remember her saying not to share information about my bipolar in the rooms because people gossip—and I kept it to myself that I didn’t agree, I feel it’s important to bring my diagnosis out of the closet so I don’t feel shame anymore for something that isn’t my fault. I feel kinda guilty sharing that Jess had bipolar, maybe she didn’t want anyone to know, am I betraying her confidence by discussing it? Yet I want to talk about it, as if it will help me understand why Jess is gone now…yet I’m still here.

I got to know Jessica better through countless Monday night zooms over the years, through holiday gatherings at Shawn’s place, and the Sunday night German Village AA meeting I Zoom or sometimes attend in person. Jess was full of wisdom, appeared to be rocking her program, she talked of overcoming homelessness and for a time losing custody of her children, only to regain her footing through sobriety and the Steps and sponsorship, and attending both AA and Alanon meetings. She was often invited to tell her story at Speaker meetings, I never heard her lead, but I’m sure it was great.

At times, I was kinda jealous of beautiful Jess, she was just always so wise in her comments on our Monday night Zoom, whereas I mostly mumble in a med-induced haze, probably making no sense whatsoever. I’m having a hard time fathoming that she won’t be there anymore, it just feels all wrong, and there’s now a gaping hole in our tight knit sponsorship family. 

Why did this happen? Could it have been prevented? I’m left with these questions that want answers. The longer the questions I have go unanswered the more frustrated I get. I feel selfish, like I’m entitled to know all the details of this tragic event. I don’t understand why I get so obsessed with wanting to know, it’s really juvenile, immature, unbecoming. 

This whole thing was just so unexpected. At least I never saw it coming. Yet I know how challenging managing a dual diagnosis is, and you add on childrearing and a job and it can just be too much. Oh Jess, you always seemed so strong. Rest easy now, dear angel. I mourn you, my friend and confidant. And I’m grateful to have known you for the time I did.

A Death: Where, How, Why?

 So Shawn dropped a bombshell text yesterday that Jessica from our AA sponsee family has passed, but there was no mention as to how or why. I’m left feeling utterly confused and frustrated, trying to get Shawn to call me with more information, but my phone is silent.

Jessica had the dual diagnosis like me of alcoholism and bipolar, and I’m wondering if this 40-something year old is gone because of suicide or overdose, or was it something different, like a cardiac event? She seemed so solid in her AA program, stable, for the most part. I do know she was fighting for custody back of her teenage son, and she was recently hospitalized last weekend, but I don’t know if that meant a psych ward or what.

I guess I’m just feeling like there is a huge hole now in our sponsorship family, and I’m left with these questions that want answers. Shawn has left me hanging, I feel like he’s not reliable or maybe stretched too thin to meet all his obligations. I feel stuck this afternoon, I can’t move forward with projects, I’m just sitting here trapped in my recliner ruminating over this unexpected death of someone I was fond of.

The longer the questions I have go unanswered the angrier I get. I feel selfish, like I’m entitled to know all the details of this tragic event, not get blown off because I’m irrelevant when others are grieving at the same time I am. I don’t understand why I get so obsessed with wanting to know, it’s really juvenile, immature, unbecoming. 

I should just be practicing patience, eventually I will come to know why and how Jess died. I need to accept that I’m not as important as I think I am, at least in certain situations. This whole thing just was so unexpected. At least for me. And that’s difficult for me to process. Jess is gone. It feels unreal.

Writing Prompt: An Open Letter To My Anxiety

 Prompt: Write a letter to your anxiety and tell it it’s not needed anymore.

An Open Letter To My Anxiety

Hey anxiety, I’ve got a message for you: Fuck off.

For decades you have plagued me, driving me to alcohol and weed to manage you. What a disaster that was. I’ve been in countless therapists’ offices trying to analyze you and mitigate your damage, making only minimal progress with no real relief. I’ve knocked on psychiatrists’ doors, begging for medication to blunt your ferocious attacks. And I’ve been in support groups, commiserating with other souls tormented by you.

Anxiety, you’ve caused enough damage. It’s time for you to go.

I’m wondering if you’ve hung around so long because I’ve wrapped you up in my identity. Oh look at me, I’m anxious mess Melissa, master of catastrophic mind-fuckery. I’ve clung to you because you’re so familiar, wake up in the morning, grab coffee then worry, ready, set, go. What, pray tell, might I be able to accomplish if I chuck you out of my life, perhaps I’m scared to find out?

Anxiety, there’s no room in my life anymore for you. Please leave.

In February I found a new therapist, Matt, who has been doing eye movement therapy on you and I’m seeing great improvement. My morning catastrophizing has been almost completely nipped in the bud, and I’m feeling driven to get out of the house and just move, just start experiencing life like a normal person. Kudos to me for doing this work, I moved into action to break free of your hold. You will not monopolize my time anymore, I hit rock bottom with you, and I’m done.

Anxiety, I’m now moving into action. You can’t hold me back anymore.

This month I turn 58. I’m blessed to be retired, finances under control, joined by my husband Michael and Basset Hound Lily in a simple, mostly predictable life. I am safe, I am secure, anxiety I won’t let you interfere with my happiness anymore, I won’t let you disrupt my peace and serenity I am trying to architect. I have a say in how the rest of my life plays out, I play a part in the narrative.

Anxiety, I’m drafting the story of this next chapter of my life. I’m writing you out of the script.

Goodbye to you, anxiety. I certainly won’t miss you. I don’t need you, I’ve never needed you, I’m not living in the wilderness needing “fight or flight” to protect me from a scary tiger. I’m letting go, my Higher Power has got things. Deep breath. I’m going to be OK.