Corking the Bottle

I heard this Pink Floyd song during my bleak college days. I wished it were true, but it didn't apply to me. Not then. Not until I was about 50 or so. That's when I made it, I thought: "I had become comfortably numb." I drank beyond being comfortably numb. I blacked out. I lost control. I was blessed through my first 50 years. Then one by one, the things in my life I cherished, that had made me feel blessed, eroded until I was left with depression and anxiety. And alcohol. "When I was a child I caught a fleeting glimpse Out of the corner of my eye. I turned to look, but it was gone. I cannot put my finger on it now. The child is grown; The dream is gone. I have become comfortably numb." Thanks to God for giving me my feeling back.

This is a challenging post to write. If I tell the whole story, I will threaten the anonymity of an A.A.newcomer. But I'm going to try, because the serendipity with which God works is blatantly obvious in what is happening in her life. I was friends with a family 20 years ago. More precisely, I had a love and concern for the children, who I saw growing up in a high-risk environment. I later watched the kids pass into adulthood from a distance, with occasional contact with some who demonstrated sad results of their troubled childhoods. I didn't come to know one of the kids because she was just a baby then, waddling through the house wearing only a diaper -- or less. Later, I heard some heart-breaking, second- and third-hand stories about her as she grew. "God, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change..." She and her siblings were among those "things." Through Facebook, her father confided concerns for the now-young woman. She came up ...

I wrote yesterday I was taking a break from blogging and maybe would quit due to a lack of readership. That resulted in an avalanche of one text message pleading with me to continue. So I will. This letter was in the advice column in the paper, and I thought it was worth sharing. Alcohol affects many more than just the alcoholic. See for yourself. Wife’s alcoholism impacts family Dear Annie:  My wife is an alcoholic. I wrote the letter below to myself really. I was wondering if you would publish it, in hopes that it might help someone who is afflicted with alcoholism: I lost my wife and my best friend to alcoholism in March of 2012. That was seven long years ago. She continues to breathe, to function, to exist, but she is not the same person. Not even close. My wife used to light up a room with her laugh and her smile. Alcoholism has extinguished both. My world has not been the same since. As a husband, this disease makes me feel like an utter failure, haunted by ...

I guess there is no one to say this to: I have been taking a blogging break. I am discouraged by the lack of readers in spite of my efforts to publicize this thing. I felt like God asked me to blog when I started a year and a half ago. Sadly, I sometimes wonder if God himself even reads my blog. God, guide me to do your will.

Some of the bridges I burned were the wrong ones. Others I should have crossed, but I sat at the side of the road, sometimes drinking. Now I'm sober. I feel God with me. I pray to do His will. Now He leads me across the right bridges and gives me lighter fluid to torch the bridges I need to burn.

Here is a post I found on the Faces and Voices of Recovery Facebook group site. Does loneliness cause you to use or want to use? Then Paul's story is for you. Paul Noiles December 15 at 7:42 AM Addiction is one of the loneliest disorders. From the outside, I seemed to be the opposite of lonely. I was an extrovert with high social skills, lots of good- time buddies and was the life of many parties. I can even remember my wife being jealous of how easily I made friends. But in reality, I was a fake. I was a masterful actor who never came off the stage because I feared the real me was not enough. I created the fake Paul because I could not handle any more rejection or humiliation, which began in my childhood environment. I created the fake Paul to hide the shame of being a highly sensitive person (HSP). I created the fake Paul because I felt unwanted and alone. "Loneliness and the feeling of being unwanted is the most terrible poverty....

Here are some interesting statements from A.A. meetings. Donna said it's a big deal just to do her own laundry now that she is sober. I can say the same thing about keeping the house clean and doing yard work. Someone said once that becoming sober is like adolescence. That's an interesting metaphor. Our bodies and minds are going through major changes. Sometimes emotions take over. We might have a desire to go back -- to our childhoods or to using. It feels like the discomfort is permanent despite what others tell us. Remember, not even mountains last forever. Adolescence passed and so will this. Bill found his work became his new addiction. It enabled him to avoid family and alcohol, but something still was missing. He started going back to A.A. meetings, and I assume he found what he needed. Like all of us, he rediscovered the support and personal accountability we find at A.A. The meetings strengthen our spirituality, restore ourselves, and provide opportunities to hel...

Many enter A.A. afraid of the steps that relate to God, a Higher Power. As I think back, it seems to me I always had a Higher Power. That Higher Power was me. I had control of my life and most of the things that happened to me. At least I told myself I did. I tried to exercise power over my family and others and came to feel that if they didn't recognize my power, it must be proof of their own weakness. Thankfully, that's an exaggeration. Yeah, I had a superiority complex, but I knew I wasn't God. I use this hyperbole (I hope it's hyperbole!) to make a point.  Alcoholics working the steps have to believe in a power greater than themselves. With no power above them, it means they must have been responsible for creating the earth, breathing life into the lungs of all creatures, and giving birth to Jesus, who needed paddling and time-outs often while growing up. Hyperbole again. But here's the thing: Did God, the creator, die and leave the universe on autopilot...

Yesterday I printed A.A.'s tips to keep your holiday season sober and joyous. I thought of some ideas the people at A.A. apparently missed: Be like a lawyer and pass the bars. Wear overstuffed mittens at all parties to prevent picking up liquid temptations. If you've been working on the railroad, hide all spikes before they can be added to the punch. Use bourbon balls to make eyes in your snowman. If it's a large package of bourbon balls, make lots of snowmen. If someone gifts you a bottle of wine, buy a boat and christen it. Rudolph's nose might be red from drinking too much. Keep your own nose its natural color. If you feel tempted to take a drink, go out in the cold, where you can stay so-brrrr. If you get lost in the snow and a St. Bernard with a keg around its neck finds you, sniff contents of keg before consuming. If Grandma gets run over by a reindeer, breathalyze the reindeer and call an attorney. Keep singing the words to John Lennon's Christma...

Someone distributed sheets of paper on the tables at A.A. today, labeled "Twelve Tips on Keeping Your Holiday Season Sober and Joyous." I thought I would pass along these tips to you, slightly abridged, in case you are tempted to make your Christmas too jolly. Line up A.A. activities for the holiday season. Volunteer. Be host to A.A. friends, especially newcomers. At least invite them to meet you for coffee. Keep your A.A. telephone list handy with you at all times. Find out about any special A.A. holiday parties, meetings, or other celebrations. Skip any drinking occasion you are nervous about. "And lead us not into temptation." If you have to go to a drinking party and can't take an A.A. with you, keep some candy handy. Don't think you have to stay someplace late. Have an exit excuse ready. Worship in your own way. Don't sit around brooding. Catch up on books, museums, walks, and letters. Don't start now getting worked up about holid...