Too precious!

I know, I'm an insufferable grandmother...

But C'MON... this is just too cute for words!!

A second in time

Today is the only day it will happen...

at 56 seconds past 12:34 today, it will be:

12:34:56 7/8/9

I'm going to do something very special with that second in time.

Haven't figured out yet exactly what I will do, but it will be special. I won't waste it.

Let something essential happen to me

O God,

let something essential happen to me,

something awesome,

something real.

Speak to my condition, Lord,

and change me somewhere inside where it matters,

a change that will burn and tremble and heal

and explode me into tears

or laughter

or love that throbs or screams

or keeps a terrible, cleansing silence

and dares the dangerous deeds.

Let something happen in me

which is my real self, God.


An excerpt from "Guerrillas of Grace: Prayers for the Battle" by Ted Loder

The Day I Quit

A dear friend recently asked me about the day I quit drinking. So here's the story...

Spring, 1993
I had been holed up in my bedroom for many months. The man I was living with, John, brought me food once in awhile, but mostly he just left me alone.

I had been unemployed for about 17 months, and actually unemployable for much longer than that.

I could no longer smoke pot because it sent me into coughing convulsions. I was often doubled over in pain because of something that felt like an ulcer. I was coughing up blood.

I drank vodka straight from the bottle in my room, with the TV droning on.


May 16, 1993
Something happened. I heard God.

Now, I'm not saying I hallucinated, or I heard audible voices, or anything like that. But I distinctly heard God speak to me -- or more accurately, I heard Him speak to my heart. And this is what He said:

"Karen, if you let me, I will change your entire life."

It startled me, actually. It was so clear, so obvious. I was very, very drunk, but it got through to me.

I stumbled to my bathroom where a calendar hung on the wall. On it, I scribbled these words:

"Don't forget -- God will change my whole life."

I wrote that on my calendar because I knew I would forget if I didn't write it down. (I kept that calendar page, by the way.)


May 17, 1993
The next morning, I saw what I had written. My first thought was,

"OK, fine. Whatever. I don't care. If you want to change my life, then have at it. Be my guest. Go ahead. No one's stopping you. I honestly don't care."

That morning, I was coughing up a lot of blood. John took me to the emergency room. I don't remember much about it at all.

From there, somehow I ended up at St. Helena Hospital in Healdsburg, California, in their inpatient alcohol & drug rehab unit. I don't remember arriving. I do remember getting word that I would be able to stay because I still had a month of COBRA benefits remaining from when I lost my job 17 months earlier.

I remember the room they put me in. I was sharing it with another woman -- a nurse from a hospital in Northern California who had been busted stealing pharmaceutical drugs. I don't remember her name and I don't remember much about her.

I went to sleep that afternoon, and slept all night.

That was it.
That was the first day I did not drink alcohol since 1977. The date was May, 17, 1993. I have never picked up a drink since.

A few important (important to me, anyway) points about that day:

• I didn't choose the date.

• I didn't choose to quit drinking. (Quitting was not something I ever would have chosen to do.)

• There was no fanfare.
  

• I simply stopped fighting.

• I had run out of brilliant ideas, plans, schemes, and answers.

• I was empty and utterly defeated.

"What the caterpillar calls the end of the world... the Master calls a butterfly."

Karen

Capricorn

CAPRICORN - The Passionate Lover
Love to bust. Nice. Sassy. Intelligent. Sexy. Grouchy at times and annoying to some. Lazy and love to take it easy. But when they find a job or something they like to do they put their all into it. Proud, understanding and sweet.

Irresistible. Loves being in long relationships. Great talker. Always gets what he or she wants. Cool. Loves to win against other signs especially Gemini's in sports. Likes to cook but would rather go out to eat at good restaurants.

Extremely fun. Loves to joke. Smart.

No longer restless, irritable, or discontent

The picture was taken at Lake Mead near Las Vegas on 4th of July, circa 1985-ish. Those guys in the picture were party ANIMALS. And that's me, on the far right. Pretty cute, huh?

For these long weekends, we typically rented a houseboat, parked it in some remote cove on the far reaches of the lake, and proceeded to party our brains out.

We would ski...

... from dawn until dusk, or until we were too drunk to stand up.We always ate plenty of food - pasta, fruit salad, watermelon, and burgers.

We blasted music all weekend: Jimmy Buffett, Rolling Stones, Chicago (most of these friends grew up in Chicago, so they loved the band), Led Zeppelin, Journey, and Eric Clapton.

We smoked pot and snorted coke. And we drank... WOW, did we drink. Margaritas, mostly. Plenty of tequila flowed ever-so-freely. Beer, wine coolers, bloody mary's, and screwdrivers. But mostly margaritas.

And on the 4th of July...

...we all climbed up on the top of the houseboat -- drunk, stoned, sunburned, and worn out -- and we oooo'ed and aaahhhhh'ed as fireworks lit up the night sky over Las Vegas.

Those were the days when drinking was still fun.

Laughter, music, food, friends, and fun! I have years of irresponsible, irrational, irresistible memories.

But there was bad stuff, too, though...

Typically, someone fell overboard into the lake and required rescuing. Someone else got in a fight with their weekend partner and spent the night sleeping alone on the sand by the water. And, of course, someone would always hook up with a life-long friend for a night of gratuitous sex, with the understanding that all would be forgiven in the morning. (Forgiven... and never forgotten.)

Each year for the past 16 years, I become less and less restless, irritable, and discontent on the 4th of July.

There's still a serious party girl inside this 53-year old body. Sometimes I still long to cut loose... to party like it's 1999... or 2999, I guess.

Sometimes I think I would love to be there again at one of those blow-outs, where the office is left far, far behind along with all my other responsibilities. But I can't go back, and I know it. I can't ever drink again. And that's okay!

I no longer believe the lie in my head that tries to convince me it could be fun again. The truth is, I wouldn't go back now even if I could. I treasure my sober life, and I wouldn't trade it for anything.

Now, 4th of July is comfortable. No more longing or restlessness. The party-girl inside me is no longer banging on the walls of my soul, demanding to come out and play.

Today, here's what I do:

I go to AA meetings and try to hook up with someone who IS restless, irritable, and discontent just like I used to be. I try to lend a helping hand, a listening ear, an empathetic heart, and a little bit of know-how so that person can get through the 4th of July weekend without picking up a drink. This year, I actually get to chair an AA meeting on the 4th of July.

As a result, I've been able to stay sober for 16 4th of Julys in a row, counting this Saturday. It's a pretty cool deal.

Party on, dude! Happy 4th everybody!

Karen

Thinking and feeling and loving

When I was a drunk, I didn’t do much thinking.

I acted on impulse most of the time. I was anything but introspective. I never thought about consequences, and I got in loads of trouble as a result.

I simply didn’t care enough about anything to examine it or try to understand it. Especially if it had to do with anyone else’s feelings.

And as far as loving someone too much…

Well… there wasn’t much chance of that happening. I didn’t love anyone. My heart didn’t function at all. It was like this big, hard, cold hunk of cement stuck in my chest.

I didn’t give a rat’s ass about anyone or anything. If I acted like I cared, it was probably because I wanted something from you. I cared only about myself. And yet, deep down inside, I hated myself, too.

I haven’t had a drink in over 16 years now.

I’ve done a heckuvalotta work since that last drink. My perspective about life has changed in amazing, profound ways.

I take responsibility today for more than I ever thought I would. I’ve made things right with people I had wronged. I’ve become much more honest. I’m not “there” yet -- not even close. But I’ve grown spiritually, and I have a relationship with God that works for me. I know that counts for much.

I genuinely value things today that I never thought I could ever possibly care about – friends, family, career, my home, my health, my education, my well-being, and my serenity -- just to name a few.

Today, there are people in my life who I genuinely love and value. And I gotta admit it – it feels amazing to be able to love another human being.

Feeling, and thinking, and loving, and interacting with others are precious gifts of sobriety for me. Gifts I never even expected to receive, but on which I place a tremendous amount of value.

It’s good to think, and feel, and love.

If someone tells me to stop thinking, or stop feeling, or stop questioning, or stop examining, well… I’m not sure that person has my best interests at heart. In fact, I'd go so far to say that it would feel a little controlling and suppressive.

I don’t want to stop doing those things. In fact, I want to get better at doing those things.

If someone tells me I’m taking a relationship too seriously, perhaps it means they aren’t taking it seriously at all.

Food for thought…

Karen

All I need is the air that I breathe...

... And To Love You.

I've been thinking a lot this evening about of how much I need certain people in my life. The concept alone makes me uneasy, probably because there's some fear there. Somewhere along the line, my magnificent brain concluded that "needing someone" is the same as "being needy." Intellectually, I'm aware that those are two different concepts. But the issue is still an uncomfortable one for me emotionally. I still tend to get all tangled up when it comes to matters of trust.

I used to claim I didn't need anyone or anything. I trusted no one and dependend on no one for nuthin'. But that's no longer true. I'm surprised at how much I've let my guard down in recent years. And no matter how hard I try not to, once I connect with someone emotionally, it's inevitable that I begin to feel a stronger and stronger need for that person at some point.

Need for them to do what, you might ask?

Well, I don't know, I guess to need me back. To let me get close. To reciprocate. To share experience and adventures with me. To share life with me.

The thing about needing someone is the chance that my longings will go unrequited and ultimately become painful. People can't be expected to meet one another's needs. I wasn't able to meet my ex-husband's needs -- he's told me so. I would often see the frustration and hurt in his eyes. Likewise, when I long to be close to someone who doesn't reciprocate those feelings, that person probably detects my frustration as well.

It's always better, I think, to have no expectations of anyone. That's the only way I know how to avoid painful disappointment.

But love trumps all that logic.

When I care deeply for someone, I need them. Apparently, I can't help it.

Maybe I shouldn't care so much?

No, that can't be the right answer. I've come so far. I used to be such a miserable, hateful, unhappy person. I have worked hard -- and continue to work hard -- to be the kind of person who is capable of loving others and being loved.

With love comes risk.

*sigh* That's about a philosophical as I'm going to get tonight.

Karen

Take me home, country roads

It's been my observation that most people limit themselves to one or two different styles of music.

Not me—I appreciate a wide range of genres.

I tend to obsess on one at a time. These fixations can last for a few weeks or many years. I eventually become bored and switch to something different.

I bop from one phase to the next.

I went through a solid Top 40 pop phase in my teens. Then there was the acoustic phase in my early 20’s, the heavy metal phase in my mid-20’s, and the MTV phase in my late 20’s.

From time to time, I’ll delve into the world of contemporary Christian music. That trip usually leaves me feeling empty, though, forcing me to acknowledge yet again my preference for traditional hymns.

My preoccupation with Country music lasted a particularly long time. I two-stepped, line-danced, and country-waltzed my way through the entire decade of my 30’s. I knew all the artists and bands, and of course every word of every song. I glued myself to the CMT channel. I wore the clothes and the attitude well. My CD library grew extensively during those days.

A year or so ago, I went through a fascination with “Women’s Music” performed exclusively by lesbians. I still have plenty to learn about that genre. I’ll revisit it someday soon.

I'll show you mine if you show me yours.

I enjoy it when people I care about share their music with me. This past summer, I took a nostalgic trip down memory lane with hits from the 60’s, 70’s, and 80’s thanks to a friend’s vast collection of mp3s. I’ll always treasure that stuff. This same friend also shared some of his Celtic favorites, along with recordings his father loved—the Tennessee Ernie Ford sing-a-long hymns, for example, were wonderful.

If I had to pick a favorite...

... I’d have to confess my ongoing romance with the classical genre—especially classical piano, which happens to be the passion of my heart.

This past week, I’ve become bored again.

My CD collection has grown a little stale, and the radio has nothing exciting to offer me.

I long for an experience like I had not long ago when I fell so madly in love with a piece of music that I couldn’t focus on anything else for a day or two. I want another adventure like that again as soon as possible.

For now, I'm a little bit Country.

After thoroughly enjoying a Bellamy Brothers CD this past week, I’ve decided to go Country again for awhile. I’ve tuned my car stereo to a new Country station, and I plan to dig out some favorite CDs tomorrow. George Strait, Clint Black, Merle Haggard, Dwight Yokum, Willie and Waylon… I can’t wait! It’ll be fun.

Rock on, dude…

Karen

There's no such thing as a synonym.

Here's another one of my all-time favorites from Billy Collins. Being a writer and a frequent user of the almighty Thesaurus myself, I truly appreciate this charming, anthropomorphic ode. Enjoy!

Karen

Thesaurus

It could be the name of a prehistoric beast
that roamed the Paleozoic earth, rising up
on its hind legs to show off its large vocabulary,
or some lover in a myth who is metamorphosed into a book.

It means treasury, but it is just a place
where words congregate with their relatives,
a big park where hundreds of family reunions
are always being held,
house, home, abode, dwelling, lodgings, and digs,
all sharing the same picnic basket and thermos;
hairy, hirsute, woolly, furry, fleecy, and shaggy
all running a sack race or throwing horseshoes,
inert, static, motionless, fixed and immobile
standing and kneeling in rows for a group photograph.

Here father is next to sire and brother close
to sibling, separated only by fine shades of meaning.
And every group has its odd cousin, the one
who traveled the farthest to be here:
astereognosis, polydipsia, or some eleven
syllable, unpronounceable substitute for the word tool.
Even their own relatives have to squint at their name tags.

I can see my own copy up on a high shelf.
I rarely open it, because I know there is no
such thing as a synonym and because I get nervous
around people who always assemble with their own kind,
forming clubs and nailing signs to closed front doors
while others huddle alone in the dark streets.

I would rather see words out on their own, away
from their families and the warehouse of Roget,
wandering the world where they sometimes fall
in love with a completely different word.
Surely, you have seen pairs of them standing forever
next to each other on the same line inside a poem,
a small chapel where weddings like these,
between perfect strangers, can take place.

~ Billy Collins

Forgetfulness

One of my favorite contemporary poets, Billy Collins, wrote the following piece. It describes with delightful humor what it's like when forgetfulness becomes a way of life.

If you'd like to hear a recording of the author reading this poem aloud, they're available. I can find the link for you if you want.

Enjoy!

Karen

Forgetfulness

The name of the author is the first to go
followed obediently by the title, the plot,
the heartbreaking conclusion, the entire novel
which suddenly becomes one you have never read,
never even heard of,

as if, one by one, the memories you used to harbor
decided to retire to the southern hemisphere of the brain,
to a little fishing village where there are no phones.

Long ago you kissed the names of the nine Muses goodbye
and watched the quadratic equation pack its bag,
and even now as you memorize the order of the planets,

something else is slipping away, a state flower perhaps,
the address of an uncle, the capital of Paraguay.

Whatever it is you are struggling to remember,
it is not poised on the tip of your tongue,
not even lurking in some obscure corner of your spleen.

It has floated away down a dark mythological river
whose name begins with an L as far as you can recall,
well on your own way to oblivion where you will join those
who have even forgotten how to swim and how to ride a bicycle.

No wonder you rise in the middle of the night
to look up the date of a famous battle in a book on war.
No wonder the moon in the window seems to have drifted
out of a love poem that you used to know by heart.

~ Billy Collins

Top 10 reasons why dogs are better than kids

10. They eat less

9. They don't ever ask for money

8 They are much easier to train

7. They happily come when called

6. They never ask to drive the car

5. They don't use drugs, smoke, or drink and neither do their friends

4. They don't insist on buying the latest fashions

3. They don't cop an attitude, roll their eyes, stomp away, and slam the door

2. They don't need a gazillion dollars for college

And the #1 reason why dogs are better than kids:

1. If they get pregnant, you can sell their children.

Karen

A minor irritant

I’m told that, when I was little, I became bored much too easily. That propensity, along with my prolific motor-mouth, made me quite the “minor irritant” to my mother. She likened me to an active, yappy little puppy—always getting underfoot, finding trouble, making messes, babbling endlessly, and driving her nuts. She loved me for sure, but I know I must have worn her out with my constant demands for attention and interaction.

The truth is, I was crazy about my mother.

I could never get enough of her. I always wanted to be with her and I craved her attention. I was very little, so of course the entire universe revolved around me. Therefore, when my mother and I were together, I insisted on having her all to myself. I did whatever was necessary to monopolize her every waking moment. I made it impossible for her to ignore me.

Today, I can be a well-behaved, “normal” adult woman most of the time.

I’m not the type of person who demands the spotlight or needs to be the center of attention. I think I’ve learned to interact fairly well with other humanoids on this planet, and I don’t believe that others find me too terribly irritating.

Still, I cringe to admit it, but maybe I haven’t really changed that much over the years. When I’m connected with someone I truly care about, I’m afraid I still turn into that little motor-mouth all over again. I babble on incessantly and take advantage of every opportunity to interact. When it comes to someone I really like, I can never get enough attention or communication.

I try to rein myself in.

I really do. I don’t want to be selfish, so I attempt to reason with myself about my unreasonable behavior. I tell myself that people don’t always want to be saturated with my attention. People have other things to do, other lives to live, other responsibilities and interests. I try to not be so obsessive. Sometimes I succeed, but not always.

I like you. A LOT.

If you find that I’ve been a minor irritant to you, please know, it’s just that I want to wrap myself up in your friendship. It’s my nature—I want to overdose on you. There are a million-and-one things I long to do with you and know about you. I may never run out of energy and enthusiasm for one-on-one experiences with you.

I know I’m terribly obsessive, and I know I can be a pest, like a yappy little puppy. But that’s because I think you’re a very cool person, and I love being connected with you.

Is that so bad?

Karen

What it's like to have a truck roll over your foot

Editorial note: I wrote this in July 2006 -- the day after the incident occurred. Just saving it here for posterity. Lovely memories!

Yesterday, a friend of mine -- let's just call him Brian -- drove his truck over my foot.

Now, let's get this into perspective.

He didn't mean to do it. Naturally, he would never do anything like that on purpose. I mean -- we're FRIENDS, for crimineeee sakes. Friends don't do things like that on purpose. If Brian had known I was standing that close to his truck, he certainly would not have begun moving forward. I mean, he didn't AIM for my foot or anything like that. It was an accident.

And another thing.

I'm not stupid. I'm not the kind of gal who likes to have her foot driven on. Common sense, by all rights, should be dependable enough to kick in and tell me that if I place my foot near the tire of a vehicle, I stand a chance of getting my foot run over.

It's not like I did it on purpose. And, no, I wasn't looking for attention or drama or anything like that. Sheeeeesh.

Nevertheless, there ya have it.

I was standing too close, Brian didn't realize how close I was standing, I didn't realize he was putting the truck in gear and moving forward. I felt an odd sensation on my foot, and about half-way through the episode, I realized that Brian was driving his truck slowly over my foot.

I didn't move or scream or anything like that. I gasped, I think. Who wouldn't?

Then I said, "HEY! You just drove your truck over my foot!"

Brian was appalled.

His jaw dropped open and he had that "you-gotta-be-kidding" look all over his face.

I giggled inanely (as I'm apt to do anyway, under any circumstance). What struck me funny was that I didn't seem to be injured. I could walk, I could talk, I could do math. All seemed well with the world.

Yeah, it stung a bit, but I assume that's to be expected when one's foot is run over by one's friend's truck.

I started to tell Brian about the time I got my foot stuck in an exercise bicycle when I was 11 years old. I never finished the story, though, because he turned on a book-on-CD recording, so I stopped talking. No biggie... it was only one of the most traumatic episodes of my young life.

Last evening...

I put ice on my foot as I watched a movie. ("Mrs. Henderson Presents." A cute movie!) I noticed a little puffiness and numbness, but no pain, and no problems walking.

This morning...

I woke up with weird bruisy-looking marks on the top of my foot. There's some puffiness still. I'll probably put ice on it again this evening.

As you can see in the photograph above, I need a pedicure badly. The white stripes across my foot are from the flip-flops I wear all the time. My feet and toes are tan -- THAT'S NOT DIRT! And those weird red marks are -- you guessed it -- tire tracks.

Brian called this morning to see how I was doing and find out how my foot is. Pretty nice of him, don't you think?

So... that's it. That's the story of when my friend drove over my foot with his truck.

The End.

Karen

Wisdom

It was a night of early spring,
The winter-sleep was scarcely broken;
Around us shadows and the wind
Listened for what was never spoken.

Though half a score of years are gone,
Spring comes as sharply now as then—
But if we had it all to do
It would be done the same again.

It was a spring that never came,
But we have lived enough to know
What we have never had, remains;
It is the things we have that go.

~ Sara Teasdale

Am I powerless over alcohol?

I published the following article in the AA Beginners Club awhile back. This morning, someone asked me to post it on my blog for quick reference. So, here it is: some important points to consider if you're wondering whether or not you're an alcoholic.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Step 1: We admitted we were powerless over alcohol – that our lives had become unmanageable.

According to experts in the field of alcoholism, and according to Alcoholics Anonymous, the illness of alcoholism is specifically defined. Someone either is or is not an alcoholic. Some people have terrible drinking problems and yet they are not real alcoholics, and are therefore not powerless over alcohol.

The questions become:

1. What does it mean to be powerless over alcohol?
2. Am I really powerless over alcohol?
3. Am I a real alcoholic?

FIRST: Never diagnose alcoholism based on behavior.

An alcoholic is an alcoholic whether he or she drinks alcohol or not. It is possible (although most certainly improbable) that an alcoholic may have never consumed alcohol.

The sweetest, kindest, most generous person in the world may be alcoholic. You can't diagnose someone by looking at them. Behavior, morals, ethics, religious beliefs, accomplishments, education, talent... none of this matters. Either someone has the illness of alcoholism or they do not.

I agree with the studies that show alcoholism is genetic. We are born with it. It manifests itself in many, many ways, at varied times in a person's life, and results in a wide range of disfunctional behaviors. The behaviors, however, do not define the illness.

I know a gentleman who only consumed alcohol once in his life. He explained to me, based on his knowledge of alcoholism, that he is a real alcoholic. His religion forbade alcohol consumption, so he never drank again. But he had no doubt in his mind what would happen if he did.

How did he know he was alcoholic? Keep reading.

SECOND: We diagnose alcoholism based on the effects produced by alcohol consumption.

It's the same way we diagnose allergies to anything else. Like peanuts, for example, an excellent comparison. Someone can be born with an allergy to peanuts and may never even know it—until the day they ingest peanuts. Then, based on the effect peanuts produced in their bodies, they discover they have unleashed an allergy.

Same with alcoholism. When an alcoholic ingests alcohol, a specific allergic reaction occurs. Our bodies react abnormally to alcohol. We metabolize alcohol differently than other people do. This is not conjecture, but has been proven scientifically.

What are the symptoms? Like with allergies to certain foods, do we break out in hives, or do our faces and throats swell up? No, although some will attest to breaking out in handcuffs.

What happens is that our bodies demand more and more and more. A “phenomenon of craving” kicks in and overwhelms us.

And there doesn't seem to be anything we can do about it. Once we start drinking, we can't stop. We drink until our bodies have had enough.

How much is enough? That is determined by our own individual bodies.

Normal drinkers don't experience this. (Just ask one.) They don't even understand it, and some think it's a fallacy. Normal drinkers can drink to excess, they can get good and drunk, they can black out, they can pass out, etc. But they can also choose not to. Alcoholics have lost that power of choice.

Some alcoholics (not all) experience really horrendous consequences as a result of this uncontrollable drinking. Really, really bad stuff happens.

IMPORTANT POINT:

Don't confuse behavior or consequences as being part of the definition of alcoholism. The consequences alcoholics suffer, and the behavior alcoholics exhibit, are relative and contextual.

THIRD: Alcoholics cannot NOT drink.

The question isn't, "How do I stop drinking?" but rather, "How do I keep from starting again?"

It's the first drink that sets the entire cycle into motion. You learn all about the insanity of the first drink when you read the chapter titled More About Alcoholism in the book, “Alcoholics Anonymous.” The entire chapter is devoted to clarifying this vital message.

We've all heard well-meaning friends and loved ones suggest, "Why don't you just quit, dear?"

Ahhh... if only.

Real alcoholics often want to quit. We know we should quit. We know we need to quit. When we say we're going to quit, we often really mean it. Read Bill Wilson's own personal story (Chapter 1, Bill's Story, “Alcoholics Anonymous”). Notice how many times he quit drinking. Notice how badly he wanted to quit.

We hate the horrible consequences as much as others hate seeing us go through them—perhaps more. At least others can (and often should) distance themselves from us. We cannot, however, distance ourselves from ourselves.

We suffer from what is referred to as "the obsession of the mind."

Normal drinkers don't experience this, either. (Again, just ask one.) And they definitely don't understand this. It makes no sense to them whatsoever, and, in fact, it usually really pisses them off. This is what they hate about alcoholics—they don't understand why we won't just F***ING QUIT DRINKING.

What they don't get is what’s called “alcoholic insanity,” also referred to as an “alcoholic mind.” There's this little voice in our heads, pounding away at us, convincing us of all manner of lies:

• “This time, it will be different.”
• “You don't have a problem. You're just over-reacting.”
• “Everyone drinks that way.”
• “You're making way too big of a deal about this. You always blow everything out of proportion!”
• “F*** THEM if they don't like the way you choose to spend your own time!”
• “HEY! It's your body! They can't tell you what to do with it. If you want to drink, that's your business, not theirs.”
• “No one will ever find out. It’ll be our secret.”
• “You deserve to drink. If they had to go through what you're going through, they'd drink, too.”
• “Look around… you’re out of town, right? Staying in a hotel, right? Don’t know a soul in this city, right? Who’s gonna find out?”
• “This time, you'll for sure be able to control it and enjoy it.”
• “This time, you won't ____________.” (get fired, get a DUI, go to jail, get in a fight with the spouse, hit the kids, fall over a banister, make an ass out of yourself at the bar.... etc., etc.)

And that little voice just doesn't let up. It keeps going and going and going, until we succumb.

The real alcoholic always succumbs. It may take a while, but eventually, we always pick up that first drink.

And then the cycle starts all over again (see point #2).

• The obsession of the mind forces us to pick up the first drink.
• The allergy of the body forces us to continue drinking until our bodies have had enough - despite consequences.

The result is a never-ending cycle of insanity.

FOURTH: As a result of this never-ending cycle of insanity, our lives have (by definition) become unmanageable.

We don't have to lose our jobs, our families, our homes, our cars, our money, our teeth, our friends, our self-respect, our physical health, our purpose for living as a result of suffering from the obsession of the mind and the allergy of the body. Many of us do lose all those things and more. (I did.) But we don't have to.

Losing everything doesn't qualify us as alcoholics.

By definition, our lives are unmanageable because we suffer from the obsession of the mind and the allergy of the body—PERIOD. Whether we lose anything else or not is irrelevant.

“Alcoholic insanity” means we cannot NOT drink. And how unmanageable is that?!

Conclusion

In Step 1, decide whether or not you suffer from the obsession of the mind and the allergy of the body. Take a look at your drinking history and answer those two questions honestly for yourself. If you're not sure, try some controlled drinking. Try starting and stopping abruptly. Or try quitting for a few months.

Going through your answers with a qualified A.A. sponsor is extremely helpful, but obviously not mandatory.

If your answer is yes, then your life is unmanageable by definition. It can't be anything else. You suffer from alcoholism.

If your answer is no, then you win a "Get Out of AA Free" card! Yippee!! You do not have alcoholism. You are not an alcoholic.

That's as complicated as Step 1 needs to be. Many of us already took Step 1 before we crawled through the doors of AA. For real alcoholics, Step 1 is usually incredibly obvious.

Hope this helps.

Karen H.
Founder, AABC
DOS: 05/17/1993

Credit and gratitude goes to Cavi C. and Amy G. -- my mentors and my friends -- who helped me finally understand Step 1.

Why I like Claude Debussy

"The primary aim of French music is to give pleasure."

Claude Debussy wrote those words. He was intently interested in the sensuous quality of music. I read recently that, even as a student, he let his carnal concept of sound override many of the rules he was taught by his teachers (which probably really pissed them off).

"Extreme complication is contrary to art... Beauty must appeal to the senses, must provide us with immediate enjoyment, must impress us or insinuate itself into us without any effort on our part."

Debussy's interest in the exquisite and sensual led him to adopt various scales he picked up from other cultures, enabling him to reach far beyond the traditional majors and minors. These are evident in his piano music, as are the distinctive floating qualities of his form and rhythm. Really erotic stuff, if you take the time to listen and use a bit of imagination.

I can't help but wonder whether his epicurean philosophies were manifested in the bedroom as well.

"I am more and more convinced that music is not, in essence, a thing which can be cast into a traditional and fixed form. It is made up of colors and rhythms."

Ahhhh... I couldn't agree more.

Karen

http://www.classicalarchives.com/debussy.html#debussy_piano

http://www.claude-debussy.com/

Reflections: The legacy of the AA Beginners Club

Where were you in May 2001?

I was celebrating eights years of sobriety that month. I had begun sponsoring women more frequently by this time. I was more involved in service at my home group, and I was actively participating in several online recovery-related sites. Finally willing to be of service to others, I had entered a new phase in sobriety.

Online, I was involved in one very large AA-related Yahoo Club (at that time, they weren't called "Groups" yet). On this particular site, unfortunately, constant bickering, arguing, and general chaos regularly interrupted on-topic discussions. For all intents and purposes, it was an unmoderated site—a real free-for-all. Not much recovery spoken there. Not much about the 12 Steps or the principles of the Steps. Not much help for beginners.

I would meet newcomers there once in awhile and try to correspond with them, but often my posts simply became lost and buried in the war zone. I always felt really badly about that… people, suffering from alcoholism, coming to a website looking for answers, but instead of hearing the message, all they got was the mess.

Questioning My Purposes Online

One night–May 29, 2001 to be exact–I went to bed feeling particularly frustrated. I lay there in the dark, evaluating my reasons for being involved in on-line recovery-related activities. What was I trying to accomplish? What were my motives? What was my primary purpose? Things had turned so ugly in that group, I was really wondering why I didn't just log off for good.

But all I could think of was this… I wanted to be of service to others. Maybe one person would recover because I helped point him to AA, to God, and to a life better than he could ever dream possible.

My Dream

As I slept that night, I had a vivid dream that I believe was God-inspired. In the dream, I created a new Yahoo Club that would be dedicated to helping newcomers. I even envisioned the title of the Club in my dream – it would be called the "AA Beginners Club" so that newcomers would quickly find it alphabetically while searching the Yahoo directory. The mission statement of AABC came as a direct result of this dream.

AABC is Born

Early on the morning of May 30, 2001, I jumped out of bed, logged on, and created AABC. I wrote the mission statement on the home page. That same “Welcome Message” still appears there to this day. The words just flowed, with little effort. I chose colors and a home page photo. All morning long, I worked setting up shop. (Yahoo "Clubs" looked completely different than Yahoo "Groups" look today, but it was basically the same idea.)

I invited Jennifer ("Sildriana" in Yahoo-land then) to serve as co-owner of the group, and she accepted. Together, Jen and I established the website. We formed group policies. We invited people to join, and the club grew.

Jen conducted 12-step studies. I created "Beginners Club Baseball" and kept the conversations going with lively topics about recovery. A wonderful woman named Crystal ("xtowandax") joined Jen and me as our first moderator. Chrystal contributed tremendously, and we really loved her a lot (still do!). The three of us answered questions for beginners, offered encouragement, and worked steadily to get the ball rolling. Others with long-term sobriety joined to help the beginners, too.

The club continued to grow. Eventually, we were forced to migrate into Yahoo “Groups.” It was very difficult, changing to an entirely new format! But we got through it together.

(By the way, that’s the reason we can’t access the archives from the beginning of the group through May 2002—the Yahoo “Clubs” archives were eventually deleted.)

Challenges and More Challenges!

Changing formats wasn't the most difficult challenge we ever faced, though. We've had some terrible storms, and endured some difficult personalities. We've always been under fire from those who hate AA (“Anti-AA Activists”) and want to see it destroyed. They seem to hold us up as the quintessential AA-related Yahoo group; as such, they hate us with a passion. (This fact truly warms my heart—we’re obviously doing something right!)

We've cycled through many moderators and several co-owners. I had a horrible temper tantrum once and almost deleted the entire group with one click of my angry mouse! But instead, I resigned as group owner. Eventually, I was asked to return, and after some sincere soul-searching and priority re-evaluating, I happily agreed. In 2006, I decided to go on an extended sabbatical from group management, although I continue to participate as a member.

AABC has endured Yahoo difficulties, as well. At times, it became absolutely impossible to access the groups or post messages. Now and then, our emails would simply disappear out in Yahoo-land, never to be seen; or, they would take hours, days, or even weeks to arrive. Eventually, though, Yahoo got their act together and now things seem to be running pretty smoothly, for the most part.

Miracles

I could go on and on about the members we've seen come and go through our group doors. I've made lifelong friends, and I’ve spoken with many members on the telephone. To date, I have only met a few face-to-face, but I know that many other members have met each other in person over the years.

Some members actually get sober in AABC! My all-time favorite is Christina (“Ananobanana”) who went from being a terrified, hopeless, defeated alcoholic to a functioning, happy, recovered member of society right before our very eyes. What a blessing it is for me to be a part of those miracles.

My Own Spiritual Growth

I wish I could explain how much this group has helped me in my journey. I go back and read some of the earliest posts, and often I'm embarrassed at how ego-driven and arrogant I was. I still am, I know… but I've gotten so much better. I really can see spiritual progress, but (thank God!) I still don't see spiritual perfection.

When May 30 rolls around each year, I go through a period of reflection, re-affirmation, and a renewing of my primary purpose, which is to stay sober and to help other alcoholics achieve sobriety. This group is dedicated to sharing the message of Alcoholics Anonymous with those who suffer. I think, with God's help, we do that pretty well.

God Bless AABC

I pray for this group and the membership every single day, and I have since the very beginning. I will continue to pray, in hopes that our little corner of the internet will remain as an effective beacon of hope for others.

Thank you to those who have been here from the beginning. Thank you to all who are here to be of service to others. Thank you to the past and current owners/moderators for your tireless service and dedication to sobriety.

Most importantly, thank you to the "Beginners." You are definitely the most important people in the room. We need you.

With gratitude and love,
Karen
(aka: Honey_dot_com)
Founder, AA Beginners Club

http://health.groups.yahoo.com/group/aabeginnersclub/

AABC membership as of July 2, 2009: 3,158

“What the caterpillar calls the end of the world, The Master calls the Butterfly.”

Fitting In

The last days of drinking and early days of sobriety were so painful. I was excruciatingly lonely, isolated, and fearful. I was completely incapable of interacting with other human beings on any level whatsoever.

There are times when I still feel out of place—even in Alcoholics Anonymous, which seems odd. I don’t know… it’s just that it's been a long journey for me to go from hating and fearing every single human on the planet to being able to interact comfortably with most of them. I have to admit, I've made incredible progress.

Just the other day, I caught myself telling a friend something I've been saying for years: “I don't like people that much.” My friend looked at me with a puzzled expression. Later on, I thought about what I had said, and realized it was no longer true. I have changed. I do like people today. Not all of them, but many of them.

I'm not sure when that happened.

One thing I know, though… when significant change occurs in my character and my behavior, it usually happens slowly, subtly, over time. No trumpets or fanfare. No burning bushes. No sudden spiritual awakenings.

I just wake up one day and realize that somewhere along the line I changed for the better.

That’s how I know for sure that God did it—because I know for sure that I didn’t.

Karen

Thank God I never got addicted to chocolate

I have what some would call an addictive personality. That means I tend to obsess on things, people, substances, and activities until they own my ass.

Escape is difficult, although not impossible, I’ve discovered.

Here is a list the things I have tried, but have not become addicted to:

• Gambling
• Shopping
• Chocolate

In my lifetime, I’ve been addicted to a handful of people. Andy, for instance. We were “together” (if you want to call it that) for six years. During that short time, we broke up 27 times, and that included a full-blown divorce somewhere in the middle. Andy finally moved to China so we could successfully separate. He stayed there for two years. When he returned – you guessed it – we were right back together again. Wow… what a seriously obsessive, compulsive, addictive, unhealthy relationship that was.

I’ve also been addicted to activities. I won’t divulge the more personal ones because, like my friend Brian says, I should be careful what I share on the internet. It would probably be in poor taste, anyway. And heaven knows how concerned I should be about what others think of me.

But some of my G-rated excessive activities have included hiking in the mountains, playing backgammon and video games, listening to music, reading the newspaper, and playing the piano. None of them necessarily dangerous or unhealthy – well, except perhaps that newspaper thing. But indulging in those activities obsessively and to excess was very problematic.

It's just not a good sign when I don't show up for work, when I spend my last dime, when I stay up all night, or when I forego well-balanced relationships in order to indulge.

Then, of course, there was that drinking thing.

From age 20 to age 37, not a day went by that I didn’t consume measurable quantities of alcohol. On many (most?) of those days, I also ingested/inhaled other mind-altering substances. Obsessive, compulsive, sick, bad-ass addictions. Insanity at its best.

The Worst

The worst addiction was the cigarettes. I smoked heavily from age 17 to age 35. I averaged about 3 packs a day. I smoked more than anyone I knew. Quitting was the most difficult thing I’ve ever done, hands down.

Well… except for when I had to say good-bye to Andy.

And What About Now?

I have overcome about 99% of my addictions. I’m gettin' a handle on that “B” word… BALANCE. I’m paying attention to my behavior, and I’m changing. I still tend to obsess now and then, but I’m far from the insane lunatic I used to be.

Thank God I never got addicted to chocolate.

Karen

I'm lucky to know them at all

I think I've figured it out.

It's all about relationships. Connecting with other humanoids. I’ve come to understand that everything revolves around interacting with others.

That's why I am sober today—so I can connect with people.

It was impossible to interact with anyone on any meaningful level when I was drunk. I hated everyone, especially myself. I was completely dishonest and fake. I was a supreme bullshit artist. No one could depend on me for friendship or loyalty.

If you were to ask me 16 years ago if relationships were important to me, I'd probably look at you with glazed-over eyes. I wouldn't know what you meant, exactly. I'd ask something like, "Waddaya mean, relationships? You mean like sex or something? Or... what?" I would have been genuinely baffled.

That’s because I truly had no connections with other people, so I didn't have anything much to go on. I couldn't imagine why anyone would want to spend time with me, and I sure as shit didn't want to spend time with them.

Now, there are plenty of obvious benefits to being sober.

I can function now like a healthy, responsible adult. I can contribute to society. I can work and accomplish my goals. I can do things—you know, weekend things, like normal people do—like go to movies or visit with friends. I can maintain my home, my finances, my physical appearance, and my behavior. Lots of obvious benefits. Things I absolutely could not do as a drunk.

But clearly, the most astounding and important benefit of sobriety is that I am now able to have real live relationships with people. I can walk among others here on Planet Earth and interact with them in a sane, meaningful way.

Today relationships are precious to me.

I mean, what else is there after all is said and done?

If I found myself stretched out on my deathbed this evening, pondering my last ponders, replaying the video of my life, wrapping things up for myself spiritually—what would I consider was genuinely precious? What did I experience that nobody else on Planet Earth experienced? What can I say I truly owned?

My unique relationship with YOU. That's what.

Nobody else's relationship with you is like the one you and I share. Nobody knows you exactly the way I do. Nobody feels exactly the same way about you as I do. Nobody has experienced you exactly the way I have.

How precious is that?!

I suffer tremendously when a relationship ends.

I find separation—especially permanent separation—severely painful. But I've come to understand that it happens, and I survive. Wounded, bruised, and battered emotionally... but better off in the end for having the connection in the first place.

"Arthur" is one of my all-time favorite movies. In it, Dudley Moore plays an adorable, infuriating drunk. Mourning the death of his dear friend and personal valet, Hobson (John Gielgud), Arthur says these words that I've never forgotten: "I was lucky to have known him at all."

That's how I feel about people today.

How amazing that one path crosses another. What are the odds? The people who come into my life and the unique interactions I get to experience with them are amazingly precious to me. I'm lucky to know them at all.

I don't avoid friendships today simply because they appear to be "doomed from the start." I am aware that, from time to time, I tend to connect with someone in a way that I realize must end someday. But I'm in it for the experience, the moments, and the memories. I'm a gamer—I'll see it through. I know the risks, and I'll take the plunge. I'll enjoy it while it lasts, and then I'll mourn it when it ends. Count me in, and enjoy me while you can, as I will you.

Anyway... bottom line... I've discovered it's all about connecting with others. I’m lucky to know them at all.

Karen