"There are Good Days and Great Days"
Anonymous, AA
I heard that in a meeting last week. Good days are when everything goes for you and you don't drink. Great days are when everything turns to shit and you don't drink. Yesterday was a great day.
It was spent largely in miserable and grumpy state. The Contributing factors were pain, man cold, lack of sleep and little food. All good quality Lab conditions to make SHIT FM loud in the head.
The good news is I didn't act badly. I didn't piss anyone off. I wasn't nasty to my girlfriend. I didn't take it out on her or anyone else (OK I shared some angry misery in an AA meeting) But largely the storm remained in my head not outside. A significant victory, plus of course I didn't drink. It was a great day
I also heard another belter which has made me think;
"Recovery doesn't happen between the preamble and serenity prayer (i.e A meeting) It starts between the serenity prayer and preamble (I.e outside the meeting in every day life)"
I can honestly say I have rarely thought that in 12 years of recovery. I guess I took it for granted and tried to weave it into my every day life. If I'm honest, I have fallen short on many occasions.
They do say if you want to see about a man's recovery. Go and talk to his girlfriend, wife, family. It's how you act in every day life. It's no good being like The Pope in a meeting and Saddam Hussein out of it.
How many times have I heard someone share like a spiritual guru, only to see them throw a volley of abuse at an unsuspecting cyclist 10 minutes later. There are lots of spiritual bull-shitters around. My goal is not to be one.
I know at certain times I completely forget I'm a recovering alcoholic. I forget I'm wired up weirdly. This is largely when I act 'in the disease', in terms of my thinking, reactions, instincts and behaviour.
All I've ever wanted to be is authentic. You cannot pass on something you haven't got. My experience is my experience. There is little point pretending to be something I am not. I can't tell you how to change if I haven't. Though to be fair at many points of sobriety I have taken the old maxim, 'Do as I say not as I do.'
I remember delivering a sermon to my Mum on tolerance, love and understanding and finishing the 12 minute spiritual tirade by shouting, "GO TO FUCKING ALANON!!!" That's proper tolerant and loving for you. Recovery in action?!
Growing up and learning about life is about growing into it spiritually and mentally. It's about learning through mistakes in my case. Sometimes I make these over and over again before learning. If I'm not spiritually connected and serene I never pretend to be. I am where I am. It is a constant journey.
Then of course you have to factor in the alcoholic ego. The one which says, 'I know' to everything. At various stages I have offered people unsolicited advice on their marriage (I've never been married), their health (Never qualified as a GP) their house (Never had a mortgage) their kids (never had any children) their relationship (I better not go there) and everything in between. I'd probably have a go at Quantum physics and South American Fiscal policy such is my exaggerated sense of bullshit sometimes.
I am finally concentrating on changing myself. I'm quite liking this whole 'how am I operating my programme in daily life' thing at the moment. It challenges me and my behaviour. It makes me accountable to myself.
Yesterday was spent largely in pain. Whilst I try not to do the whole man thing and moan like fuck. I moaned like fuck. I felt guilty as I was raised by strong little welsh female Matriarchs who never moaned about anything. My Nan went through Oesophagus cancer last year and the biggest grumble I heard from her was, 'I don't feel too well today'. She set the bar high.
When I'm tired or in pain my head doesn't work in such ways. I immediately think the worst. I am a chronic hypochondriac and drama queen (though I rarely say these thoughts out loud for fear of being laughed at). At some points I thought 6 months of lower back pain is bound to be cancer. The neck injury will never clear up. I will be in a collar before long. I was even eying up people on mobility scooters, thinking, 'that's me next'.
I thought, 'thanks God, that's my penance for laughing at all those mobility scooters. Your going to make me live in pain forever & make me sit in one. Nice one omnipitence'. (Told you my head was a bad place sometimes) Come on admit it, especially you men, how many times has your head run away with you when it comes to injury or illness?
Clearly what is happening to me at the moment is a direct result of the shit I have put into my body over a number of years. Starving myself of the right nutrition, hydration and placing terrific stress on it from heavy exercise. Perhaps it is my Higher power's way of grabbing my attention to make me sit up and take notice.
That sounds about right. Given half the chance I would carry on as normal. Feels like God is giving me a real slap across the face here.
I think women have a much higher pain threshold than men (Childbirth) and I am certainly prone to massive bouts of huge babyism. Sometimes I act all stoically when in pain. Carrying on like a martyr with a little boy look on my face, desperate for a round of applause when I carry out the most menial of tasks.
"Ah well done, you washed up a mug. All with a bad back and neck. You brave little soldier. Here's a biscuit. You sit down and let me fuss on you for several hours. Bless you." Is what I crave deep down. Dreadful isn't it?
Of course life doesn't work that way, so I was forced to carry on yesterday and in between constant moans to my girlfriend (and not the ones she would have wanted). I did a meeting, wrote the blog, went to the gym for light exercise/stretching, then I went to chanting/meditation and finally I went to my girlfriend's who spoiled me, looked after me and cooked this grumpy sod a lovely meal. Not a bad day was it?
Chanting in the evening was interesting. First one back of 2014 and it was packed. I found it hard, as I had to sit cross legged on the floor and my back/neck was giving me gip. I also struggled to let myself go. I am too self aware. My ego didn't want to give up that easily.
'That guy next to me is waving his hands round and looks into it. I'm not'. 'That girl stinks of B.O'. "I can't sing properly". "My voice sounds shit". "I look a knob". The endless chatter of SHIT FM.
The whole point of chanting is to 'get out of your head'. To connect with your higher self, to move out of ego. When I looked around the room I wondered if other people were having the same mental battle as me. Did their heads talk so loudly and savagely?
I was able to let go for a short time in the first chant. I didn't know the words in the 2nd chant, so I found it challenging. Drifting in and out of it, feeling stupid of not knowing the words.
It was fascinating to observe my ego though. It needs to feel part of, good at something, like it's doing well to feel happy and whole. Then I'm happy if 'I'M in the gang, If I'M doing OK. It is always comparing, matching, looking for approval. When I didn't know the words I felt less than, stupid and uncomfortable - SHIT FM was shouting 'You're stupid. IDIOT. IDIOT!!
It's like I have to be good at something to be OK. I checked the dude next to me who was all bangles, long hair, cross legged, eyes closed, hands in the air, clapping, chanting. Totally free. My ego thought, 'Wanker'. Then I immediately felt jealous because he was free. I wanted to be free but I just couldn't let go.
It's like sober dancing. Particularly for men. You feel absolutely terrified & self conscious. Like you can't let go as the whole world will stop and look. Someone will video you and the embarrassment of being the biggest dancing twat in the world will go viral so that everyone will know your a knob. That's the kind of self cent redness, self conscious fear I was up against. Plus my back and neck was killing me.
The 3rd chant got better and I had glimpses of being free and letting go. I think at one point my arms actually went air born, but the ego soon realised this terrible malfunction and lowered them immediately. My ego thought that was far too uncool.
The battle was exhausting and does impact on my enjoyment of chanting. But it is a really interesting observation of what I am up against and how savage my ego and SHIT FM is. Changing is hard work.
Then we were introduced to Johnathon who was to lead us in a 30 minute guided meditation. This is where the real fun began. We were told to sit bolt upright, on the floor with legs crossed. Fuck me, 30 minutes like this with my back? Are you kidding me? I'm toast.
I'd just like to point out at this point my meditation usually lasts around 3 minutes before my head starts doing cartwheels. It's something I want to do, that has been recommended but I find it easier running 26 miles than sitting still in meditation for 30 minutes.
We began. It took around 2 minutes before I wanted to give up. Breath in (HOM) breath out (SOH). He said, "Concentrate on the breath. Sometimes the mind will wander Catch it, go back to your breath and let it go".
"Let it go!!! Let it go!!!Easy for you to say Johnathon in your fucking fleece, You serene cunt", my ego chipped in, My mind was now on fire. "My back hurts,. This is shit. She fucking stinks. I hate his voice. He's wearing a shirt from Primark how can he be a fucking meditation teacher. Go and and smoke. NOW!!" This meditation lark was exhausting stuff,
I got back to my breath. Fuck me this was painful. I wanted to leave. I was having an argument with myself. SHIT FM was playing 'LEAVE!' on full volume. I was in bits. Why does it have to be who's the only one to get up and leave?
I laid down on my back and rested my hurting neck on a pillow. Oh god, bliss!!! This is when I actually did let go & concentrate on my breath. I forgot where I was. I had reached that point!!!! Fuck me I was meditating. Look at me Momma. I'm meditating!!!! I concentrated on my higher self, on the open expanse of the spirit. How much my brain on a human form limits my past, my future. How little my brain can comprehend.
Holy fuck this was awesome. I know now what all those meditators are on about. This was the crack cocaine of spirit. I loved it.
And then it was gone. Back to my head. "Fucking smelly B.O. What shall I do after? I haven't eaten yet. Oh fuck me what about running out of money in a month. Where am I going to get a job?" Welcome back head. God I missed you, I actually felt quite happy and optimistic for a minute there.
And so the class ended, Johnathon and his spiritual fleece guided us back to reality and the 90 min class ended. I was knackered. What a ride.
I felt proud not to run out of the room. I toughed it out but I wondered if other people's minds were as messy as mine? It was tough, but I got a glimpse of the benefits and just enough to make me want to practise more.
I'm determined before long to earn my spiritual fleece and once I get that level of serenity. There will be nothing to stop me, so I'm going to keep coming back.
Namaste Mother fuckers
Together We Are Stronger
Nicholas Evans
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