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My mom, The Addict

I'm not even sure how to begin this, other than by saying this is still a very sore topic for me. It is the hardest thing in the world; being an addict myself, and watching another addict, my mother for that matter, go down the same road that I did; knowing that there's absolutely nothing I can do or say to change her mind or make her stop. I was talking with my sponsor tonight about my mum and what's been going on with her. I found out today that she left her husband and is now living with my old dealer. She got smacked around a few good times because while he wasn't looking, she snagged a few pieces of crack from him. (BIG mistake, I know this man very well, and he is one of the last people I'd want to steal from), so my mum called my step dad and he came and paid the dealer off so he'd leave my mum alone. BUT! When my step father left, he left my mother there. WTF?? Really? Okay...

It completely boggles my mind that he's willing to continue enabling her, telling me today on the phone that she can't possibly weigh more than 80 lbs, he brought her food last week, and as soon as he left, my mum threw the food away. She's getting beat up by this man who, is legally, certifiable, and you just leave her there???

For months now, I've been asking my step father to go and file a Section 35 on my mother, and I've described how it works to him. He goes down to the courthouse, petitions the court to Section her, if a Judge agrees, he'll send out a warrant of apprehension, a police officer will go to wherever she is, and ARREST her. He'll put handcuffs around her wrists and throw her into the back of a cruiser. She won't have a choice! And I've told him this, numerous times, and today I said to him "I don't understand why you won't section her Dave," and he says to me, "Well, I tried talking to her about going somewhere but she said she won't go." I couldn't believe he just said that. Are you kidding me? I've told you 753457345 times, she WONT HAVE A CHOICE DAMMIT!

Ugh, it's just so frustrating, my mother is literally killing herself. I spoke with my grandmother today, and even she said "Britt, I have pictures of mom from a few years ago, she looked so ...I don't know how to describe it, other than, she looked ALIVE. I seen her a few months ago, and she looks lifeless. She looks totally emaciated...There's not an ounce of fat on her body, she looks like death." I know Gram..I know.

My sponsor said tonight, "Brittany, you may not like this, but, God has a plan for everyone, whether you want to believe that or not, and ...unfortunately, it may be his plan that something terrible happens to your mom and sadly, YOU cannot change that. Your NOT God." Damn. What do you say to that? She told me to read Acceptance on pg 417 until my eye balls fell out, I read it ...over and ..over ..and over again. And dammit, as much as I really hate to admit it; she's right. God does have a plan for each and everyone of us, and who am I to question his plans? And what difference does it make if I do question it? None.

All I can do is continue doing the next right thing, better myself, work my program, pray to God every day, and hope for the best. HOPE. ...I can only hope that at some point, God winks at my mom, puts out his hand to guide her. And damn I really hope she takes a hold of it and runs with it. Because I miss her. I don't want to have to bury my mom..especially not because this damned disease got the best of her...

So tonight, my prayers are for her, and please, I ask you to say a little prayer for her as well.

Control

Early on, I blieve that we establish what it is to sense whether or not we are in control. Congnitively, it feels better to be in control, ones ego is in check and we are then able to perceive growth and maintain a sense of balance, regardless of the situation.

As we grow older, we establish specific patterns stemming from this early sense that allow us to remain in check emotionally, physically and beyond. Even if it's some kind of ordered chaos, there is always present a sense of being able to navigate through a multitude of life situations.

When we lose control is the time the real test of integral thinking comes into play. Losing control seriously challenges people to look at themselves and then look far beyond to gain perspective. And, for me personally, it continues to be on of the biggest learning experiences ever.

You literally have to lose control of a situation to understand what drives you. What allows you to be as healthy and productive as possible when you cannot put your hand within reach. Where do you derive strength to undertake the tremendous ability of letting go and not allowing control to define you. It's seriously mind blowing to someone who has looked at control as immeasurable false protection from pain, not realizing how much of the situation wasn't mine to control in the first place and how imperative it is to just it give up, ego rebalanced and space allowed to immeasurable growth. Absolutely freaking mind blowing as I experience this more and more, wanting that space and re-balance but holding on to it for dear life for fear of pain.

It's ego. And as someone who has spent all of my adult life in some kind of addiction, the ego is a very fragile being. To just allow things to happen, to the ego, is rough. To the soul, it's truly necessary. It gives the two diametric opposites a chance to rest and intertwine once again. Definitely a challenge.

But I'm learning that just as that control is necessary for balance, so is letting go, if only briefly to recoup the senses. You just choose the elements that are most balanced at that time and focus there. You let go of the rest.

And I believe that when this happens, you wake up with less of a proverbial mental hangover and gain just a SHRED of clarity.

Imagine that.

Showin' yer ass...

umm..wrong ass.

Sometimes ... we need to take a break. Especially and most importantly, when we're in a sick thinking mindset. Taking a short bit of time to breathe and find out what the hell is going on with ya badself ... is epically important. Yes I used 'epic'. It fits.

In the fast pace of returning to a life well lived ...a sober life, fraught with all the responsibilities that comes with being a productive member of society, I need to take time to reconnect. When I don't? It's not pretty.

Let me give you a laundry list of why nots. Which are all bullshit of course in this day and age of the internets and a million ways to connect.

• lack of work
• a 'i can just inventory' mentality. not feeling the need to show my proverbial tuckus (which is very much needed for this sick chick)
• time. there isn't ever enough of it really.

See writing inventories is vital. But so is the sharing. The challenging of thinking that stinks. Whether on the phone, email, in a poem, whatever ~ I MUST ... show the sick. No matter what anyone thinks.

This is they key to staying sober/clean. This sharing. "Telling on." And so ...I am.

I don't have to do everything 'right' you know. On the path and in the journey is all that is requred of me. Thank the gods that I don't HAVE to have it all together. There is freedom in that. If you have folks in your life that DON'T show their rump (sick, disease, whatever) get around some. Run. Don't walk. There are no judges, hung jury, or executioners in 'recovery land'. We're all doing the best that we can with what we've got. One thing that I have learned to love about me is my willingness to tell on myself and then find the lesson and THEN...the humor. Cause if i'm not laughing? I'm a goner. Truth.

Humility is beautiful thing. Perfectionism is for pansies. Real courage is a truth telling sojourn into the 'real'. Thanks for being here with me. And for laughing with me at my tanning booth tan lines ... rump style. You know. That white spots where you lay on your back? The pressure point? Yea. That one.

But in reality? We are.....

Because beauty is in the eye of the recovery beholder? Can look like a hot mess, in a dress of course. Honesty is beautiful. Real is beautiful. Raw is beautiful. YOU ...are beautiful. And maybe I am too. With all my flawed perfect imperfections. I like the idea of that. Lots.

{Written Feb 4th 2011} What's it gonna be yes or no...or ...lemme sleep on it.

Had a minor epipany. Lightbulb moment. No I wasn't listening to Meatloaf. But I could be at any given moment. Okay not really. But that particular song is sorta cool in a dance and sing your face off kinda way. Right? Okay.

This is going to be a short and sweet. Sometimes those are the best kind. No long drawn out malarky. K? K. Dialogue earlier in the day...

Me. Don't be sorry. If I didn't choose for it to be that way...it'd be different.

Okay. Sounds silly and simplistic. But is it? I think of all the situations in my life. About all the things that I CHOOSE everyday. The people in or out of my peripheral line of consciousness, the image I portray, my attitude, immediate surroundings; every single one of them are choices.

I am not a victim in my own life.

Serenity prayer. Courage to change the things that I can. Yep. I am a product of what I've created. Best I can do is keep that idea front and center in my consciousness. I HAVE A CHOICE TODAY...in every situation. Even the people, places and things in my life that are unacceptable to me (oooh that sounds an awful lot like Dr. Paul's story. You know Acceptance is the answer to all my blah blah blah. Great Read. Try it sometime. Big Book Third Edition pg. 449)

OOooooh. I love it when a blog comes together. As the writing on the wall (literally) next to my bed tells me everyday....

Choose wisely my friends.

{Written Feb 3rd 2011} Perfectly Flawed...

PERFECT

Part of Speech:
adjective
Definition:
Supremely excellent in quality or nature.
Synonyms:
absolute, consummate, faultless, flawless, impeccable, indefectible, unflawed

This morning, (yes, it's morning 2:34 am), I decided to look up the many synonyms for the word perfect in hopes that I may find one that would accurately describe any part of my life. I know, needle in the haystack. I kept thinking: "What is perfection? What is the perfect situation, the perfect life, the perfect moment?" I was hopelessly curious how I measured up. Perhaps trying to counter all the reasons why I am not perfect that I have been furiously writing in my journal lately. Or maybe I have been looking to sell the idea that perfection, in any situation, rarely exists.

If you look at the before mentioned synonyms; words like absolutely, impeccable, indefectible, come across as so very definitive. I will never be completely impeccable in my life, I never fail to have a small stain or two pop out right before a meeting. Absolute? The word itself reminds me too much of the not expected to meet anyone.

But it's more than that. I think there are times when we expect that life is supposed to be perfect, in a sense. We look for things to fit a certain mold. We expect that life will one day be flaw free. And in this thinking, our expectations become unreasonable and ultimately lead to having to deal with reality.

When I was younger, I expected my life to be perfect. The reality of my life, even as I was conjuring up these fantasies, was that it was far from perfect. It was sad and dark for many many years. And my frusteration and conflict would grow to unprecendented levels because no matter how I felt or what I did, life just would no conform!

           Today, I walk around thinking that I am perfectly flawed. I am striving to accept life for it's IMPERFECTIONS because those are the most beautiful aspects.

When I imagine myself, I see flaws. I also see where I want to be, flaws included. I make mistakes like crazy - I scream and yell when I am upset at times because I am truly an emotionally intense woman. I'm okay with this as long as I really try to contain myself for five minutes before to think it out. I don't always say or do the right things. This too, I am okay with.

Perfection, to me, does not allow for growth. And life is all about evolving, growing and realizing that our flaws are part of the whole life package.

{Written Feb 2nd 2011} Lost My Way...

The other day I was writing an e-mail to an old friend of mine that has long been removed from my life, a friend that I knew while I was in highschool. In the e-mail that I wrote, I said: "You know, somewhere between then and now, I just lost my way." And that phrase has been stuck in my mind ever since.

And it's true. Somewhere between the time I was a freshmen in highschool and a few years ago, I really did lose my way. I liken it to walking down this long, long road that we call life. Throughout my journey, I've had this backpack attached to me with the weight of myself, my emotions, my grief. There have been times when I have stopped along the way and joined others, my backpack filling with my junk each step. I walked down big roads, jails, institutions, serious health issues. I walked along empty barren streets, peering into windows of others lives that I wanted so desperately to live in, my back aching from the weight of the backpack. It was like window shopping. Seeing all the different lives that I could've been living. I just kept walking until I got really lost.

Many times, I stopped and asked directions from those who didn't know the way either, and there were others who tried to point me in the right direction, but I just wasn't listening carefully enough. I faltered from the weight of my own demons. A lot of stumbling, I was desperately looking for a way home or a diversion to just let the backpack fall off for a while. There were some lonely travels along dark paths. I was unclear. Heavy, unfocused.

And while I lost my way, I didn't stop. Everytime I fell, I got up. I learned about the journey. I started looking to lighten my load of baggage to help move my life along. I paused briefly and began to examine those things. Trial and error, seeing what mattered and what didn't. I dug deep until I finally pulled out the one thing I needed, a shiny compass buried at the bottom of my bulging sack of useless crap.

Today, I am navigating. Perhaps I will always be a bit of a wanderer. A bit of confused, but on my rightful path, with direction and purpose. I got lost, changed the way that I traveled and now I am finding my way back. Walking through life with the shiny compass that I found in my soul. Stopping along the way to remember why I am walking along, the adventure, the love of traveling through. I am not lost, I am on my way.

So, my next ponderance, my next life question will be, "where the hell am I going?"