Recovery...the old fashioned way

In the past 37 days, I have made about 55 meetings, prayed every morning and at night, met my appointments at the V.A., taken my medication, called my sponsor every day, helped others where I could, and looked for work.

(19 applications in two and a half weeks and submitted all of them without a car.)

I finally gained employment and begin orientation on Tuesday.

That's one hurdle down.

I'm not sure where the willingness to do all this came from, and it was exactly that, becoming willing to do what I had to, no matter what, and it started with a willingness to be willing to believe in something greater than myself, to turn all my stuff over to whatever that is (call it what you will) and to do what was put in front of me, especially if I didn't want to.

A friend told me a story today about birds in her yard that built a nest about three feet off the ground. She was concerned because she has five cats...and so she built a little fence around the nest.

It was, she said, an analogy for her spiritual life. "You can build a fence around yourself and try to keep you safe (i.e. isolated) but eventually you have to learn how to fly. You could also be eaten."

Nice to remember...

One moment, one breath...

The now. Attempting to practice the ability to stay there. Not easy, but like any new endeavor it takes practice.

Far too simple to travel back into past pain and resentment, to relive the moments of loss...or to jump into an unknown future, projecting the horrors of bewilderment, or self-fulfilling prophecy (always in a negative context...forget the lottery.)

But the positive is elusive...hard to allow myself the luxury of thinking of a future that includes romance, financial security and peace of mind.

Easier to settle for the bullshit. The guilt, the shame, the things that keep me stuck. Allowing my past to keep me in the cycle.

But no one said positive change is easy.

Through letting go of the defects that keep me from being of service, and helping others without regard or regret, change will come.

My mind wails, "When will the change come? When will it get better?"

And a soft, still voice gently reminds me... as soon as I want it to.

Now, about that lottery.

In the theater of the mind there is gum under my seat.

Call it what you will; internal dialogue, the committee, old tapes or just fuckin' nuts but I'm starting to referee my thoughts. More often than not it's noisy and confusing but I'm doing what I can.

Filling out daily applications, meetings every day, family obligations and trying to avoid the wreckage I have caused can wear you down, but I'm still plugging.

I've even started to pray.

How's that for change?

And on...

So it's on to plan B.

The VA won't accept me in to the program I had planned on for at least thirty more days, and I don't have time to wait. It's time to get back at it and rebuild, but this time, my priority is recovery. I can be no good to anyone unless I am at my best.

I'm staying with my Aunt and Uncle in the neighborhood I lived in in the first grade. Searching for work within walking distance and save up enough money to get in to a recovery based halfway house on a bus line.

Yes, my next car will be a bus pass, or the tennis shoe express. That's okay too. I'm not too proud to walk, done it before.

If any one has a direct line to a miracle, let me know. Although I suppose others are in more need of one, I'm just putting in my shot.

Onward through the fog.