sym•bi•o•sis
Pronunciation: \ sɪm biˈoʊ sɪs \
Function: noun
Etymology: Greek
Date: 1615–25
1. the living together of two dissimilar organisms.
2. a relationship between two people in which each person is dependent upon and receives reinforcement, whether beneficial or detrimental, from the other.
3. any interdependent or mutually beneficial relationship between two persons, groups, etc.
When an idea presents itself to you through multiple venues and in various forms, it is time to stop and pay attention. I am struck by how often the themes of mindfulness and gratitude have popped into conversations, research, the news, prayer, and writing. I have addressed both here in the past.
Over the next few weeks I shall explore these ideas more fully and examine how they fit into day to day life. Maybe it’s Zen or weight loss. Perhaps it is being “green” or political in nature. It may be middle age rumination, but it is without a doubt spiritual.
In my reading about mindfulness, food is mentioned a great deal. In her latest book “Women, Food and God”, Geneen Roth stresses being mindful when eating any meal – no distractions (reading, music, TV or upsetting conversation).
In a recent article on Huffington Post, a Zen class in Clatskanie, Oregon was highlighted. The instructors teach people how to be mindful of all aspects of their meal. The suggestion, one I have heard in many places, was to not only savor what you are eating but to mindfully consider how many people were involved in the food you put in your mouth.
That brought me to today’s lunch: Romaine lettuce, green onions, raw zucchini, tomato, mushrooms, baked chicken (prepared by Albertsons) and goat cheese. (Leaving the prepared salad dressing aside for the moment).
Each ingredient had a farmer. Given than I purchased most of these items at a grocery store, not a farmers market, I am guessing the farmer had help. (Not one guy growing mushrooms under his cellar stairs). Once she grew (or raised) the food, it had to be picked or milked or slaughtered. Then the lettuce or chicken or cheese had to be packaged and shipped. Once at a store someone placed on the shelf.
You can take it a step farther. The farmer needs seeds, or feed and certainly gas for the equipment. The shipper requires laborers, drivers, dispatchers, and payroll people. The grocery store has cashiers, stockers and managers. To keep all these people and places running there has to be power. Now look to the power companies, the oil rigs, natural gas drillers, coal miners or perhaps as far as Kuwait or Libya
Thousands of people worked so I could have a salad this afternoon.
This fact is made more startling by the fact that in many places in this world, individuals must grow or raise the food they eat. They themselves slaughter, harvest, grind and cook. They scavenge for wood to cook and walk for water,
I am humbled by my lunch.
Challenge for You
Try mindfulness and gratitude with one meal. When you sit down to eat (yep sit down at a table, the car does not count) turn off the TV, radio or music. Don’t bring a book or the newspaper, the computer, phone or even the back of the cereal box to the table.
Put down your fork after each bite. Don’t put any more food in your mouth until what you have is slowly chewed and swallowed.
Start counting. How many people worked to make your meal? Start at the beginning (raising or growing what you are eating) and work your way to the store. Let me know what you discover.
What Worked for Me Today
Mindful Lunch
Minutia
Huffington Post
"In Buddhism You Are What and How You Eat"
http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2011/02/25/for-buddhist-master-you-a_n_828450.html
Geneen Roth
http://www.geneenroth.com/
Sunday, February 27, 2011
Friday, January 21, 2011
Resilient - Not wishing for what was - but what what can be.
re•sil•ient
Pronunciation: \ ri-zil-yuh nt \
Function: adjective
Etymology: Latin resilient- of resilīre to spring back
Date: 1635–45
1. springing back; rebounding.
2. returning to the original form or position after being bent, compressed, or stretched.
3. recovering readily from illness, depression, adversity, or the like; buoyant.
I have not lost hope. Not in myself, in my skills, in my children, in my students, in my colleagues, in my God. I am resilient. I am strong. I have learned to feel, to let go, to abandon myself to something greater. How I love a paradox! It is my very weakness, my very pain that demonstrates my strength.
At work, there are more challenges ahead. Changes that will require stamina, creativity, flexibility, patience, and perseverance. There is little time to whine about how I wish things could be. There is an urgency pressing to create something new.
I am humbled by the resiliency of the children. I had my own odd childhood, as so many of us did. However, it did not contain the physical and emotional wounds some of my students have lived through and face even today. Yet they come. They ask. They challenge. They cry. They stumble. They discover. They share. They learn. They argue. They laugh. They hunger. They come. They come to us and we must meet them where they are.
I have not lost hope. It is there in the compassion of the teachers. It rises from the laughter and from within the struggles of my students. It is there in the vision and belief that we can create something different, something better, something stronger.
We will do more with less. We will complain and argue, but we will come prepared. We have not lost hope. We are resilient.
What Worked for Me Today
Staying Grounded in Today
Acknowledging that I can feel conflicting emotions but knowing that I do not have to be all of one or the other.
Minutia
We are not alone in facing significant budget cuts.
Lake Oswego needs to Cut $5 - 8 Million
Lake Oswego cut 16 teachers last year and are considering closing a school this year.
http://news.opb.org/article/47049-cities-schools-look-work-together-solve-funding-woes/
Gaston May Close the Entire District
http://www.oregonlive.com/forest-grove/index.ssf/2011/01/gaston_school_district_officials_to_detail_potential_2011-12_budget_cuts_seek_final_word_on_consolid.html
Roseburg Needs to Cut $3 million
http://www.nrtoday.com/article/20101219/NEWS/101219756/0/WAP&parentprofile=1061
Eugene Needs to Cut as Much as $35 million
http://www.associatedcontent.com/article/5976430/eugene_oregon_local_schools_hit_hard.html?cat=8
North Clackamas faces $10 Million Cut
David Dougas $12 Million Cut
http://www.kgw.com/news/local/Oregon-school-districts-again-face-budget-pinch-114214199.html
Pronunciation: \ ri-zil-yuh nt \
Function: adjective
Etymology: Latin resilient- of resilīre to spring back
Date: 1635–45
1. springing back; rebounding.
2. returning to the original form or position after being bent, compressed, or stretched.
3. recovering readily from illness, depression, adversity, or the like; buoyant.
I have not lost hope. Not in myself, in my skills, in my children, in my students, in my colleagues, in my God. I am resilient. I am strong. I have learned to feel, to let go, to abandon myself to something greater. How I love a paradox! It is my very weakness, my very pain that demonstrates my strength.
At work, there are more challenges ahead. Changes that will require stamina, creativity, flexibility, patience, and perseverance. There is little time to whine about how I wish things could be. There is an urgency pressing to create something new.
I am humbled by the resiliency of the children. I had my own odd childhood, as so many of us did. However, it did not contain the physical and emotional wounds some of my students have lived through and face even today. Yet they come. They ask. They challenge. They cry. They stumble. They discover. They share. They learn. They argue. They laugh. They hunger. They come. They come to us and we must meet them where they are.
I have not lost hope. It is there in the compassion of the teachers. It rises from the laughter and from within the struggles of my students. It is there in the vision and belief that we can create something different, something better, something stronger.
We will do more with less. We will complain and argue, but we will come prepared. We have not lost hope. We are resilient.
What Worked for Me Today
Staying Grounded in Today
Acknowledging that I can feel conflicting emotions but knowing that I do not have to be all of one or the other.
Minutia
We are not alone in facing significant budget cuts.
Lake Oswego needs to Cut $5 - 8 Million
Lake Oswego cut 16 teachers last year and are considering closing a school this year.
http://news.opb.org/article/47049-cities-schools-look-work-together-solve-funding-woes/
Gaston May Close the Entire District
http://www.oregonlive.com/forest-grove/index.ssf/2011/01/gaston_school_district_officials_to_detail_potential_2011-12_budget_cuts_seek_final_word_on_consolid.html
Roseburg Needs to Cut $3 million
http://www.nrtoday.com/article/20101219/NEWS/101219756/0/WAP&parentprofile=1061
Eugene Needs to Cut as Much as $35 million
http://www.associatedcontent.com/article/5976430/eugene_oregon_local_schools_hit_hard.html?cat=8
North Clackamas faces $10 Million Cut
David Dougas $12 Million Cut
http://www.kgw.com/news/local/Oregon-school-districts-again-face-budget-pinch-114214199.html
Monday, January 17, 2011
David James Rogers - August 2, 1959 ~ February 21, 2010
I have a home with Him
I have endured with Him
I have grieved
I have laughed
I have gone out
I have come in
He holds me
He comforts me
He straightens my path
What hope have I alone?
He is my Lord and I will nbever be alone
He is my comforter
and my best friend
He knows me
He has a secret name for me
He calls me blessed
He calls me beloved
I have endured with Him
I have grieved
I have laughed
I have gone out
I have come in
He holds me
He comforts me
He straightens my path
What hope have I alone?
He is my Lord and I will nbever be alone
He is my comforter
and my best friend
He knows me
He has a secret name for me
He calls me blessed
He calls me beloved
Ritual - For me, for him, for others.
rit•u•al
Pronunciation: \ rich-oo-uh l \
Function: noun
Etymology: Latin rītuālis, rite
Date: 1560–70
1. an established or prescribed procedure for a religious or other rite.
2. a system or collection of religious or other rites.
3. observance of set forms in public worship.
4. a book of rites or ceremonies.
5. a book containing the offices to be used by priests in administering the sacraments and for visitation of the sick, burial of the dead, etc.
Doug called and asked that I come Monday night rather than Tuesday morning. He was unsettled by finding David and the state of the room. He turned to me. What happened that night, to me, was an act of respect. I did what I did because I loved David. I did what I did so others would not have to. I did what I did because I needed to. There is no regret. My actions closed the circle.
David died of an acute subdural hematoma. He fell at least twice in his bedroom. He bled significantly from the severe cut on his head. However, it was the internal hemorrhage that killed him over the course of 3 to 4 hours.
When I opened the door to his bedroom I pieced together what had happened by blood around the room and the dozens of Absolute vodka bottles strewn across the bed and floor. He fell at least twice. The first time he hit his head against the edge of his desk. How soon he was able to sit up I cannot tell, but he leaned against both the speaker and the side of his bed. The uncovered speaker was soaked with blood as was the box spring. There were hand prints and smears across the furniture and the walls. There was a bloody hand print on an Advil bottle and pills spilled across the floor.
He must have gotten himself back to bed, for there was blood on the pillow, sheet and on the curtains that hung at the head of the bed. At some time, he got up and fell again. This time he did not get up. The next day, the coroner would confirm my views with the preliminary results of the autopsy and his own investigation of the scene.
There was work to be done. That night I stripped the bed, sacked everything and took it out to the front porch. I picked up all the bottles and put them in recycling. Then I began to clean. I washed the walls, the desk, the speaker, the floor. I would repeat this until I could not see any more blood. I worked on the box spring, but I could only fade the stain. I folded his clothes, straightened the living room and finally lay down on his bed. By now it was 4 a.m. There would be more to do, but tonight I was where he was when he died.
Pronunciation: \ rich-oo-uh l \
Function: noun
Etymology: Latin rītuālis, rite
Date: 1560–70
1. an established or prescribed procedure for a religious or other rite.
2. a system or collection of religious or other rites.
3. observance of set forms in public worship.
4. a book of rites or ceremonies.
5. a book containing the offices to be used by priests in administering the sacraments and for visitation of the sick, burial of the dead, etc.
Doug called and asked that I come Monday night rather than Tuesday morning. He was unsettled by finding David and the state of the room. He turned to me. What happened that night, to me, was an act of respect. I did what I did because I loved David. I did what I did so others would not have to. I did what I did because I needed to. There is no regret. My actions closed the circle.
David died of an acute subdural hematoma. He fell at least twice in his bedroom. He bled significantly from the severe cut on his head. However, it was the internal hemorrhage that killed him over the course of 3 to 4 hours.
When I opened the door to his bedroom I pieced together what had happened by blood around the room and the dozens of Absolute vodka bottles strewn across the bed and floor. He fell at least twice. The first time he hit his head against the edge of his desk. How soon he was able to sit up I cannot tell, but he leaned against both the speaker and the side of his bed. The uncovered speaker was soaked with blood as was the box spring. There were hand prints and smears across the furniture and the walls. There was a bloody hand print on an Advil bottle and pills spilled across the floor.
He must have gotten himself back to bed, for there was blood on the pillow, sheet and on the curtains that hung at the head of the bed. At some time, he got up and fell again. This time he did not get up. The next day, the coroner would confirm my views with the preliminary results of the autopsy and his own investigation of the scene.
There was work to be done. That night I stripped the bed, sacked everything and took it out to the front porch. I picked up all the bottles and put them in recycling. Then I began to clean. I washed the walls, the desk, the speaker, the floor. I would repeat this until I could not see any more blood. I worked on the box spring, but I could only fade the stain. I folded his clothes, straightened the living room and finally lay down on his bed. By now it was 4 a.m. There would be more to do, but tonight I was where he was when he died.
Tarry – Sometimes I wish I could stay in the in-between.
tar•ry
Pronunciation: \ tar-ee \
Function: verb
Etymology: Middle English taryen to delay
Date: 1275–1325
1. to remain or stay, as in a place; sojourn
2. to delay or be tardy in acting, starting, coming, etc.; linger or loiter.
3. to wait.
4. Archaic . to wait for.
Between the Thursday of MLK week and the early morning hours of February 22nd I did not speak with David. I called multiple times and left many messages. I sent him a funny little card with a tricycle on the front. “My next ride will be a three-wheeler.”
On February 5th he left me a voice message.
What I know is that he moved Doug back in with him. Doug, a gentle soul, but truly an old hippy, had lived with him before. Doug helped him get into Detox. David stayed there for about a week. He had gotten a 24 hour sober chip. He wouldn’t go into treatment, preferring to return home. He stayed sober for two days. He never went back to work. He kept to his room, watched videos and drank.
David had asked Doug to check on him every day – something Doug did. On Sunday morning, February 21st David was awake and moving around his room. Doug was gone most of the day and that evening. When he returned he found David on the floor of his bedroom. He was cold to the touch. The paramedics, then the police, then the coroner came.
Then Doug called me. I would learn more, face more, when I drove down Monday night. I would talk to the coroner, I would clean the room, I would take care of the family. But it was Monday, and I went to work because I did not have a sub.
Pronunciation: \ tar-ee \
Function: verb
Etymology: Middle English taryen to delay
Date: 1275–1325
1. to remain or stay, as in a place; sojourn
2. to delay or be tardy in acting, starting, coming, etc.; linger or loiter.
3. to wait.
4. Archaic . to wait for.
Between the Thursday of MLK week and the early morning hours of February 22nd I did not speak with David. I called multiple times and left many messages. I sent him a funny little card with a tricycle on the front. “My next ride will be a three-wheeler.”
On February 5th he left me a voice message.
Hey thanks for the card. That was really cool. I just… I love you and I miss you. And things are a little rough here right now. I am really struggling with a lot of things. But I think about you often and I do love you. Anyway , thanks for thinking of me and sending the card. Bye.I called him right back. But he did not answer. Even today I question why I didn’t just drive down to Eugene. I have to believe that Al-Anon is right - that I am powerless over someone’s sobriety. It has to be true, because the burden is too great – the what ifs too haunting.
What I know is that he moved Doug back in with him. Doug, a gentle soul, but truly an old hippy, had lived with him before. Doug helped him get into Detox. David stayed there for about a week. He had gotten a 24 hour sober chip. He wouldn’t go into treatment, preferring to return home. He stayed sober for two days. He never went back to work. He kept to his room, watched videos and drank.
David had asked Doug to check on him every day – something Doug did. On Sunday morning, February 21st David was awake and moving around his room. Doug was gone most of the day and that evening. When he returned he found David on the floor of his bedroom. He was cold to the touch. The paramedics, then the police, then the coroner came.
Then Doug called me. I would learn more, face more, when I drove down Monday night. I would talk to the coroner, I would clean the room, I would take care of the family. But it was Monday, and I went to work because I did not have a sub.
Increments – I had to leave.
in•cre•ment
Pronunciation: \ in-kruh-muh nt \
Function: noun
Etymology: Latin incrēmentum an increase
Date: 1375–1425
1. something added or gained; addition; increase.
2. profit; gain.
3. the act or process of increasing; growth.
4. an amount by which something increases or grows
5. one of a series of regular additions
What I remember most about Monday and Tuesday is that I felt tattered and more frightened that I had ever been, for him and for myself. I would stay as long as he had a plan but I was free falling – no parachute – no net. I had the presence of mind to call people from Al – Anon. I went to meetings morning, afternoon and night. I prayed. I cried. I listened.
He slept, with the aid of Benadryl, through most of those two days. He got the shakes. He had a headache that wouldn’t go away. He didn’t eat much that I remember. But we talked. He said he had lied to his sponsor and to me. He had begun drinking last summer. Just a glass of wine or a beer – never at home – always in control. Then one day he bought beer and brought it home. It didn’t erase the pain and fear. The next night it was vodka. He lost the fantasy. He had to ask himself “Do I really believe I am an alcoholic?”
He would tell me stories of his childhood – awful, brutal, cruel stories. He talked of what was gone and what he now stood to lose. He would seek reassurance that I still loved him, that I wasn’t repulsed by who he was, what he was doing. This was his story and I was his witness.
Wednesday he asked if he should tell the people at work. He feared the consequences, the loss of his job, but more than that the loss of the respect. AA and all 12-step programs demand “rigorous honesty.” All I could do was share my experience, strength and hope. I simply said that without honesty I would remain “as sick as my secrets.”
He went to the directors, and they gave him two weeks off of work with pay. They were gracious and he was touched at their caring and support. Then he pulled a bottle of vodka out of a bag and said that the doc had recommended that he “taper off” and not go cold turkey. He said she was concerned over his shakes and heart palpitations.
Sick attracts sick and I did not challenge him. I just thought that the doc must be one of the most incompetent physicians in the world. He’d already been sober for two days. If something was going to go wrong it would have already happened. I believed him.
He once again woke in the middle of the night. He woke me and simply said “You know alcoholics lie.” I said yes. The doc had not told him to taper off. In fact she had barely spoken with him. It’s hard to describe the relief I felt. In fact my response was literally to say out loud “Thank God!” It shocked him. I truly liked and respected his boss –the doc – and I was glad to hear she wasn’t crazy.
I no longer remember the rest of what we talked about. More reassurances, more stories, but he was going to drink. I had to say, then, I must go.
At dawn I wavered. I told him I loved him. He held me. If he had asked me to stay, I am not sure I would have been able to say no. But he didn’t. In fact, he told me he loved me and said “you have to go.” And I did. It would be the last time I would see him alive.
Pronunciation: \ in-kruh-muh nt \
Function: noun
Etymology: Latin incrēmentum an increase
Date: 1375–1425
1. something added or gained; addition; increase.
2. profit; gain.
3. the act or process of increasing; growth.
4. an amount by which something increases or grows
5. one of a series of regular additions
What I remember most about Monday and Tuesday is that I felt tattered and more frightened that I had ever been, for him and for myself. I would stay as long as he had a plan but I was free falling – no parachute – no net. I had the presence of mind to call people from Al – Anon. I went to meetings morning, afternoon and night. I prayed. I cried. I listened.
He slept, with the aid of Benadryl, through most of those two days. He got the shakes. He had a headache that wouldn’t go away. He didn’t eat much that I remember. But we talked. He said he had lied to his sponsor and to me. He had begun drinking last summer. Just a glass of wine or a beer – never at home – always in control. Then one day he bought beer and brought it home. It didn’t erase the pain and fear. The next night it was vodka. He lost the fantasy. He had to ask himself “Do I really believe I am an alcoholic?”
He would tell me stories of his childhood – awful, brutal, cruel stories. He talked of what was gone and what he now stood to lose. He would seek reassurance that I still loved him, that I wasn’t repulsed by who he was, what he was doing. This was his story and I was his witness.
Wednesday he asked if he should tell the people at work. He feared the consequences, the loss of his job, but more than that the loss of the respect. AA and all 12-step programs demand “rigorous honesty.” All I could do was share my experience, strength and hope. I simply said that without honesty I would remain “as sick as my secrets.”
He went to the directors, and they gave him two weeks off of work with pay. They were gracious and he was touched at their caring and support. Then he pulled a bottle of vodka out of a bag and said that the doc had recommended that he “taper off” and not go cold turkey. He said she was concerned over his shakes and heart palpitations.
Sick attracts sick and I did not challenge him. I just thought that the doc must be one of the most incompetent physicians in the world. He’d already been sober for two days. If something was going to go wrong it would have already happened. I believed him.
He once again woke in the middle of the night. He woke me and simply said “You know alcoholics lie.” I said yes. The doc had not told him to taper off. In fact she had barely spoken with him. It’s hard to describe the relief I felt. In fact my response was literally to say out loud “Thank God!” It shocked him. I truly liked and respected his boss –the doc – and I was glad to hear she wasn’t crazy.
I no longer remember the rest of what we talked about. More reassurances, more stories, but he was going to drink. I had to say, then, I must go.
At dawn I wavered. I told him I loved him. He held me. If he had asked me to stay, I am not sure I would have been able to say no. But he didn’t. In fact, he told me he loved me and said “you have to go.” And I did. It would be the last time I would see him alive.
Dissonance – Torn between all that was wonderful and the pain of the story.
dis•so•nance
Pronunciation: \ dis-uh-nuh ns \
Function: noun
Etymology: Late Latin dissonantia
Date: 1565–75
1. inharmonious or harsh sound; discord; cacophony.
2. Music . a. a simultaneous combination of tones conventionally accepted as being in a state of unrest and needing completion.
b. an unresolved, discordant chord or interval. Compare consonance def. 3. disagreement or incongruity.
In telling what happened last year, I struggle. I want to stop. I don’t want to go on. I want to share about times that held laughter, intimacy and love. I want to talk about falling off my bike, bouquets of flowers picked from alleys, quiet evenings and mad cap adventures. There were hours spent talking of faith, recovery, family, planning the future and just as many debating food, books, music, clothes and art.
Yet I know, that I must relate the details first. It is part of my healing. It is necessary so that I believe “Nothing I did or did not do would convince my loved one to get sober……..Nothing I could do would make or break another person’s sobriety.” ~ Courage to Change
His grandson came and stayed the weekend with us. We went to the Science Museum and out to eat. We played spies all weekend long. His grandson insisted that we have code names. David picked “Muerte” – death. I chose “Phoenix” - rebirth. I learned firsthand that weekend why people make choices with their alcoholics, based on children.
Though during the day David did not drink, he did in the evening. The first night he fell in the living room, knocking over the lamp. He was confused but fine. The lamp was not.
We got into an argument over his grandson. It was just 7 or 7:30 p.m. and David had gone to bed drunk and he wanted his grandson to come to bed as well. I refused. We argued. His grandson pleaded with us not to fight. It was awful. David finally fell asleep and I stayed up with his grandson until about 9 p.m. By then we too were exhausted.
Sometime in the early morning hours, around 2 or 3 a.m. David got up. He came to me and asked me to tell him everything he had done. We talked a long time that morning. I answered every question, and there were many.
Sunday would not be much different than Saturday, except that the drinking started a little earlier. And he bought us bikes. He and I had been riding bikes for a while, except the used one I had didn’t really fit. I fell a lot – last time ending up having to see a doctor. I wanted a bike on which I could sit and still touch the ground. Now I had one.
That night he told me he drank more when I was there, because he knew I would take care of his grandson. I didn’t own it then, and I do not own it now. This night he fell in his room. Hurting his hip he was unable to get up without my assistance.
On Monday he asked me to stay – to help. I told him that I would as long as he had a plan in place. I would stand beside him as he once again took those first steps toward sobriety. Haltingly I set boundaries.
He had tried to convince his daughter-in-law to let his grandson skip school on Tuesday and stay another day. This was so reminiscent of all the old tries at sobriety I explained I would not stay if his grandson did. It didn’t become an issue.
When it was just the two of us, David explained he expected me to be in charge of his sobriety. He ordered me to get a list of all the AA meetings. I was then to tell him to go and drive him to them. Another boundary – I said no. He knew exactly when and where the meetings were. If he wanted me to go with him, as I had many, many times before, I would, but I was not ordering him to any meeting.
He never went to a meeting. He ignored the calls from his sponsor. He made it two days - staying sober Monday and Tuesday.
What Word for Me Today
Getting up and going to the gym!
Off to treat myself to breakfast!
Minutia
New Song...
Adele's Rolling in the Deep
http://blog.vh1.com/2010-12-09/video-premiere-adele-rolling-in-the-deep/
Pronunciation: \ dis-uh-nuh ns \
Function: noun
Etymology: Late Latin dissonantia
Date: 1565–75
1. inharmonious or harsh sound; discord; cacophony.
2. Music . a. a simultaneous combination of tones conventionally accepted as being in a state of unrest and needing completion.
b. an unresolved, discordant chord or interval. Compare consonance def. 3. disagreement or incongruity.
In telling what happened last year, I struggle. I want to stop. I don’t want to go on. I want to share about times that held laughter, intimacy and love. I want to talk about falling off my bike, bouquets of flowers picked from alleys, quiet evenings and mad cap adventures. There were hours spent talking of faith, recovery, family, planning the future and just as many debating food, books, music, clothes and art.
Yet I know, that I must relate the details first. It is part of my healing. It is necessary so that I believe “Nothing I did or did not do would convince my loved one to get sober……..Nothing I could do would make or break another person’s sobriety.” ~ Courage to Change
His grandson came and stayed the weekend with us. We went to the Science Museum and out to eat. We played spies all weekend long. His grandson insisted that we have code names. David picked “Muerte” – death. I chose “Phoenix” - rebirth. I learned firsthand that weekend why people make choices with their alcoholics, based on children.
Though during the day David did not drink, he did in the evening. The first night he fell in the living room, knocking over the lamp. He was confused but fine. The lamp was not.
We got into an argument over his grandson. It was just 7 or 7:30 p.m. and David had gone to bed drunk and he wanted his grandson to come to bed as well. I refused. We argued. His grandson pleaded with us not to fight. It was awful. David finally fell asleep and I stayed up with his grandson until about 9 p.m. By then we too were exhausted.
Sometime in the early morning hours, around 2 or 3 a.m. David got up. He came to me and asked me to tell him everything he had done. We talked a long time that morning. I answered every question, and there were many.
Sunday would not be much different than Saturday, except that the drinking started a little earlier. And he bought us bikes. He and I had been riding bikes for a while, except the used one I had didn’t really fit. I fell a lot – last time ending up having to see a doctor. I wanted a bike on which I could sit and still touch the ground. Now I had one.
That night he told me he drank more when I was there, because he knew I would take care of his grandson. I didn’t own it then, and I do not own it now. This night he fell in his room. Hurting his hip he was unable to get up without my assistance.
On Monday he asked me to stay – to help. I told him that I would as long as he had a plan in place. I would stand beside him as he once again took those first steps toward sobriety. Haltingly I set boundaries.
He had tried to convince his daughter-in-law to let his grandson skip school on Tuesday and stay another day. This was so reminiscent of all the old tries at sobriety I explained I would not stay if his grandson did. It didn’t become an issue.
When it was just the two of us, David explained he expected me to be in charge of his sobriety. He ordered me to get a list of all the AA meetings. I was then to tell him to go and drive him to them. Another boundary – I said no. He knew exactly when and where the meetings were. If he wanted me to go with him, as I had many, many times before, I would, but I was not ordering him to any meeting.
He never went to a meeting. He ignored the calls from his sponsor. He made it two days - staying sober Monday and Tuesday.
What Word for Me Today
Getting up and going to the gym!
Off to treat myself to breakfast!
Minutia
New Song...
Adele's Rolling in the Deep
http://blog.vh1.com/2010-12-09/video-premiere-adele-rolling-in-the-deep/
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