Day 87: 12 (2.9.11)

~You must make a decision that you are going to move on. It wont happen automatically. You will have to rise up and say, ‘I don’t care how hard this is, I don’t care how disappointed I am, I’m not going to let this get the best of me. I’m moving on with my life~ Joel Osteen

I've come to understand and accept that my experiences with alcoholism and other addictions will enable me to live my best life.  Here are the 12 Steps, 12 Promises and 12 Traditions of Alcoholics Anonymous.  I'm currently working on Step 1 with my sponsor.  There are a variety of AA meetings.  I usually attend meetings in which the leader chooses one of the 12 Steps below as the topic for the night and then we take turns talking for a few minutes on our own experiences and insights.  

The 12 Steps

1. We admitted we were powerless over alcohol — that our lives had become unmanageable.
2. Came to believe that a Power greater than ourselves could restore us to sanity.
3. Made a decision to turn our will and our lives over to the care of God as we understood Him.
4. Made a searching and fearless moral inventory of ourselves.
5. Admitted to God, to ourselves and to another human being the exact nature of our wrongs.
6. Were entirely ready to have God remove all these defects of character.
7. Humbly asked Him to remove our shortcomings.
8. Made a list of all persons we had harmed, and became willing to make amends to them all.
9. Made direct amends to such people wherever possible, except when to do so would injure them or others.
10. Continued to take personal inventory and when we were wrong promptly admitted it.
11. Sought through prayer and meditation to improve our conscious contact with God, as we understood Him, praying only for knowledge of His will for us and the power to carry that out.
12. Having had a spiritual awakening as the result of these steps, we tried to carry this message to alcoholics, and to practice these principles in all our affairs.

The 12 Promises

1. We are going to know a new freedom and a new happiness.
2. We will not regret the past nor wish to shut the door on it.
3. We will comprehend the word serenity.
4. We will know peace.
5. No matter how far down the scale we have gone, we will see how our experience can benefit others.
6. That feeling of uselessness and self-pity will disappear.
7. We will lose interest in selfish things and gain interest in our fellows.
8. Self-seeking will slip away.
9. Our whole attitude and outlook upon life will change.
10. Fear of people and of economic insecurity will leave us.
11. We will intuitively know how to handle situations which used to baffle us.
12. We will suddenly realize that God is doing for us what we could not do for ourselves. 

The 12 Traditions

1. Our common welfare should come first; personal recovery depends upon AA unity.
2. For our group purpose there is but one ultimate authority - a loving God as He may express Himself in our group conscience.  Our leaders are but trusted servants; they do not govern.
3.  The only requirement for AA membership is a desire to stop drinking.
4.  Each group should be autonomous except in matters affecting other groups or AA as a whole. 
5. Each group has but one primary purpose - to carry its message to the alcoholic who still suffers.   
6. An AA group ought never endorse, finance, or lend the AA name to any related facility or outside enterprise, lest problems of money, property, and prestige divert us from our primary purpose.   
7. Every AA group ought to be fully self-supporting, declining outside contributions.
8. Alcoholics Anonymous should remain forever non-professional, but our service centers may employ special workers.
9. AA, as such, ought never be organized; but we may create service boards or committees directly responsible to those they serve.   
10.  Alcoholics Anonymous has no opinion on outside issues; hence the AA name ought never be drawn into public controversies.  
11. Our public relations policy is based on attraction rather than promotion; we need always maintain personal anonymity at the level of press, radio and films.  
12. Anonymity is the spiritual foundation of all our traditions, ever reminding us to place principles above personalities.

Day 86: Body Image (2.8.11)

~To keep the body in good health is a duty...otherwise we shall not be able to keep our mind strong and clear~ Buddha

I love Buddha bellies on babies.  I think they're the most adorable things.  One of my nieces had the cutest Buddha belly ever and now she's a string bean.  I would tickle her Buddha belly and blow on it to make a sound, so she would laugh.  Some of my favorite moments in life.  In my adoption picture, I was a little sumo wrestler.  My foster home said that I was a good eater and they weren't lying.  I was chubbylicious and I wish I could reach in the pic and pick me up.  As I grew up, I learned to hate my Buddha belly.

In "Helping Women Recover," Dr Stephanie S Covington says that addiction for women complicates the already complicated relationship with their bodies.  Those of us addicted, usually neglected our bodies or obsessed about having the perfect bodies. I developed a negative body image around kindergarten.  I started taking diet pills in high school and that continued on and off through college.  I also began starving myself in high school and it went in spurts throughout my life until I went to rehab.  I started binging more after college and at times, took laxatives. Sometimes, I'd overeat by going to different fast food places in one night and then binge in private in my car or I'd order multiple meals from a delivery place and then binge alone in my home.  At times, I sat on the bathroom floor, leaned over the toilet, stuck my finger down my throat and tried throwing up.  Binging and purging also stopped when I went to rehab.  I used alcohol and drugs to numb the depression and anxiety associated with my body.  Pretty sexy and glamorous images and all for the perfect body that would never be attainable in my mind. 

With clean and sober bodies, Dr Covington says that many women confuse pleasurable sensations - the sensual - with sexual feelings.  She says that sensuality has to do with bodily sensations.  I think sexual abuse complicates things further, but I can completely relate to this as I used to feel guilty about normal sensations such as pleasure.  Until recently, I felt guilty about things like taking a bath or watching a movie that gave me pleasurable feelings and it didn't even have to be a sex scene.  My girlfriends would cry or say that they cried during certain shows or movies and I could never get to that point for the majority of my life.  I tried forcing myself to cry and then I started feeling like a bad person h because I couldn't cry.

During outpatient treatment last week, we were given an outline of a woman's body front and back.  We marked the parts of the body that we liked and felt satisfied with by using plus signs.  Minus signs represented the parts that we didn't like, hated, or felt uncomfortable with.  The parts we felt neutral about, we used circles.  Of course, "all or nothing" me either liked or hated certain parts.  I liked my hair, neck, chest, forearms, wrists, hands and feet.  I hated the rest.  I probably had the worst body image in the group, but all the women had something negative to say.  After we finished sharing, the counselors asked how we all felt and I said that I felt really sad that we all hated our bodies so much because we weren't born that way.  I felt angry that the media contributed to the hatred of our bodies by calling some celebrity women fat for being a size 4 or even 2.  I thought about how my 5 year old nieces have high self esteem and love themselves now and I would be devastated if they went through what I have with the hatred and destruction of my body.

My nieces and nephews have inspired me to turn my mind around on body image.  For too long, I've allowed all this negativity to freely occupy a lot of space in my mind and it cost me my sanity.  I've finally made peace with my body.  It takes a lot of energy to hate.  I'm implementing steps to gain confidence in my body by joining a gym and working with a trainer.  I want to be the role model to my nieces and nephews that I never had in regards to body image.  I've put my body through a lot and it's truly amazing that I still have my health.  I am beautiful inside and out because God made me.  I had no control over my creation; the good, the bad and the ugly.  All I can do is embrace or improve what I got.  I have a passion for art and love creativity and imagination.  Now that I'm sober, I see God's artistry everywhere and in everyone, so to put myself down, is like mocking an Artist's work.          

Day 85: Perfectionism (2.7.11)

~Certain flaws are necessary for the whole.  It would seem strange if old friends lacked certain quirks~ Johann Wolfgang von Goethe

I was around 6 years old when I became perfectionist.  My sister, who is about a year younger, and me were coloring one day and she gave my mother a picture and my mother accepted it.  When I presented my picture, she looked at it briefly and gave it back to me saying that I could do a better job.  I asked her why she took my sister's picture and she told me that I was old enough to color inside the lines.  I think the first song that I ever liked and sang was Jesus Loves Me.  I remember coloring a picture for Jesus and putting it under my pillow.  Of course, it was there the next day, but based on what I learned in Sunday School, my childlike faith told me that He saw it and liked it.  He accepted the imperfections of my drawing just as He accepts my imperfections today.

I kept trying to impress my mother and make her love me.  I picked what I thought to be beautiful yellow flowers from the front yard.  I went in the house and happily showed my mother what I had picked for her, but she wouldn't take them.  She told me that they were weeds and when I objected and told her they were flowers, she told me that dandelions were weeds.  It was Christmastime and my mother was driving me home from school, I was all excited to tell her about Santa Claus' visit to our classroom.  I believe there was a big colorful drawing of a fireplace and chimney and I told my mother how he came down the chimney and left gifts.  She told me that Santa Claus wasn't real and I burst into tears as I tried defending my case for his existence, but I couldn't ever convince her.  There was never anyway to change her mind.   

My maternal grandma was my favorite.  I adored and loved her and I knew she felt the same way.  I was always happy to see my grandma because she was nurturing and she always had nice things to say to me, so of course, I reciprocated that love.  My parents especially my mother thought that it was unfair to my 2 sisters and brother that I was grandma's favorite.  They expressed this to me and felt that I had acted or said certain things to make my grandma love me more.  My shoe fetish began at 6 years old when my grandma gave us girls the most stylish purple coats ever.  My grandma was very fashionable and I loved that about her.  After she gave us the coats, I told her that purple boots would look nice with these.  Of course, as a kid, there's not really a filter and you just say what comes to mind.  That's why I love hanging out with my nieces and nephews.  I told her that purple boots would look good with my jacket.  I had no idea that one of my grandma's jobs was to spoil us and anything that I said she would likely get for me.  My grandma laughed after I said it and I liked that I had made her laugh, but my mother overheard me and she was very upset.  

She was angry and told me that if my grandma bought us boots then I would have to pay for them.  Of course, being 6, I didn't know how I was supposed to pay for them, so it made me feel very sad.  It was probably a week or two later when I was riding home on the bus and I saw that my grandma's car was parked in our driveway.  My heart sank because I knew that my grandma had probably bought us boots.  When I walked in the house, I saw my grandma and favorite aunt with the most lovely purple boots.  Three pairs stood all in a row for each of us girls.  The purple matched perfectly with our jackets, but instead of being overjoyed, I reservedly smiled and said thank you.  It was one of the nicest things that anyone had done for me, but I was more afraid of what my mom was going to say or do after they left.

I accompanied my dad to one of kindergarten conferences.  At one point, the energy changed and my kindergarten teacher kept looking at me.  I could tell she didn't want to say whatever it was in front of me, so she asked me to leave the room for a moment.  I waited outside and knew that it couldn't be something good.  When we got home, my dad relayed the information.  I don't even remember what it was.  I just remember feeling very sad and ashamed.  I wondered why my beloved teacher didn't like me anymore.  I'm sure it was helpful feedback, but with my parents, it was never a learning opportunity and a chance for them to help me improve.  Rather, it was a negative reflection of me; a character flaw.  As a result, I stopped being a kid and ended most of my creativity, imagination and dreams because those weren't working out for me.  Perfectionism and codependency started as I stopped living for myself and I started living for other people.  My goal was to please others and not make any mistakes, so people would like me.  As a child, I learned mistakes were bad and equated to being a bad person.  

Some people say that everyone has crappy childhoods, so they dismiss their feelings.  I used to be the same way, but now I realize that there are a lot of hurt adults out there, too, who do a lot of things because of traumas experienced as children.  My childhood was my foundation.  My belief systems and learned behaviors were established in childhood, so it makes sense that I would react in certain ways as an adult.  It's not like we turn 18 and all the issues of the past are suddenly solved and disappear.  I felt stuck in my childhood while living in adulthood, but as I address each trauma, I start the healing process and can move on with my life.  

We did an activity at inpatient treatment in which we were instructed to write 5 positive or negative messages that we received growing up on strips of paper.  Each woman shared theirs and then we had the option to throw some of them away if we wanted.  We were instructed to write five, but being the overachiever that I am, I wrote ten.  Here are the messages that I received directly or through actions.

• I am ugly
• I am a bitch
• I am fat
• I am selfish
• I am an object for men
• I am stupid
• I am not loved and my interests are not important
• I am never right and always to blame
• I am not allowed to express my thoughts and feelings and challenge authority
• I am a poor role model for my sisters and brother

At the time in treatment, I couldn't discard mine, yet, because for me, sometimes having negative feelings was better than having no feelings.  I'm now ready to let go of those untrue messages and accept that I'm a good person.

Day 84: Super Cravings (2.6.11)

~Don't knock masturbation - it's sex with someone I love~ Woody Allen 

Exercising at the gym is like foreplay, but without the happy ending; heart racing, blood pumping, sweaty, endorphins, sexy guys with hot bodies.  Everyone is clothed, so it's kind of like healthy porn.  It's the ultimate safe "sex."  The gym has always been an aphrodisiac for me.  If any gym can convince people that working out is as good or better than sex, drugs and alcohol, they'll make a billion dollars as obviously, those are all multi-billion dollar industries.   Sobriety hasn't removed my sexual desire.  If anything, the feelings have intensified as my brain continues to regulate itself from years of abuse, so it seeks comfort and highs.  It's normal after alcohol that the next addiction is sex.  It used to sound funny to me, but now it makes perfect sense.  I wasn't a full blown sex addict when I was using drugs and alcohol, but I did get highs from men.  Addiction is a progressive disease, so I want to be conscious about sex addiction because I know my behavior with men can ruin my life just as much as alcohol and drugs.  I'm not blaming guys as I have the power to ruin or improve my life; no one else.

In addition to men, sports is a huge trigger for me especially watching events like the Super Bowl.  For the first time in a while, I had no plans to go anywhere to watch it as I knew it would be a struggle.  I did, however, go to the gym for my first official "date" with my trainer for a series of fitness tests involving endurance, flexibility and strength.  After the nausea subsided, I experienced terrible insomnia, so I actually missed our original "date" the previous morning because I had gone to bed at 7 am and didn't hear my alarm.  I was so bummed, but he was still nice to me and we kind of joked about it.  I learned that he also strength trains for the University of Minnesota Gophers Football Team.   I told him that I've never been to a game, so he said that he could get me tickets next season.  I'm sure he says that to all the girls.  They have a beautiful new stadium that I've wanted to check out and I refrained from asking to sit next to him or on him.

He's the training manager and handles all the sales, so he had to go and had someone else do my measurements.  A cute guy came over who was conversational with a good sense of humor.  I've regained and embraced my shyness and modesty now that I'm sober, so I appreciated that he was a good talker and joked around with me as he was tape measuring my body.  Since he was so calm, cool and professional, it was a pretty enjoyable experience.  Actually, in retrospect, it was probably the most erotic experience that I've ever had sober.  He was inches from me measuring my neck, chest, waist, hips and then he had me face him to measure my thighs and calves.  While his head was near my crotch, all I could think about was that I hope it didn't smell as I hadn't showered in a couple days.  I'm really self-conscious about anything on my body smelling around other people; scalp, hair, armpits, crotch and feet rank at the top of the list.

I call him my trainer and he does the initial assessments, but I'll actually be working with someone from his staff whom I'll get to select.  However, I was happy to hear that he'd be doing all my measurements each month in the future.  I know it's to monitor the progress of his staff and me, but yay, I'll get to have clothed "sex" once a month.  I know it's not really sex that I want, but the emotional connection.  I never had nurturing from my birth parents or healthy nurturing from my adoptive parents growing up.  A friend of mine once commented that she always thought I had "daddy issues."  I hated the phrase as I thought it was gross to think of other men that way, but she was totally right.  Children need nurturing and if they don't get it from their parents, they'll seek it elsewhere.  For me, it's been a lifelong search for someone to fill that intense void and of course, it's an unrealistic expectation and impossible for anyone here to do that for me.

For the last few months, I've been sheltered and protected from alcohol, drugs and men.  In rehab, I had no contact with alcohol or drugs and little contact with men.  Since being out of rehab, I've spent time with guy friends who are like my brothers.  They've been nurturing and protective, but I crave that emotional bond with someone like a significant other.  Since I don't frequent bars anymore, the gym is kind of like my reintroduction to the world of men.  I left the gym feeling frickin horny and very lonely.  To decompress, I showered myself in freezing winter weather, drove my car and cried.  I'm not comfortable crying in front of people.  I stopped trying to seek comfort from my parents when I was young because they were the cause of a lot of my pain.  I always felt comfortable crying alone in my room or the bathroom because those were safe places for my emotions.  My favorite place to cry is my car.  I have a hard time sitting still, so in my car, it's comforting to sit still with my thoughts and feelings and still be moving.  I blast the music and feel safe crying and yelling sometimes.

I thought it was so stupid of me to feel sad about losing my car in my accident last fall, but now I understand why I had such a hard time.  I had a relationship and bonded with my car for eight years.  I had wanted her since I saw her in a movie when I was 11 years old and after a series of junkers, she was my first brand new car after college.  I paid for her all by myself and named her Gabi.  She was a silver 2002 Volkswagen Cabrio with black leather interior.  The salesman said that it was the last year VW was making Cabrio's, so it was destiny.  She knew me better than anyone else and we traveled on many journeys together through positive and negative life events with boyfriends, family, friends, work, sports, etc.  She knew my thoughts and feelings better than anyone else and I felt safe because she couldn't hurt me.  Plus, she made me feel cute, cool, sexy, smart and sassy.  I realized the other day why God allowed her to be taken away from me.  In addition to stopping alcohol and drugs, He also wanted me to start having intimate relationships and seeking help and support from people rather than from things.  He wanted me to learn for myself that I could never find true happiness and love from things.

In treatment, I've learned to express my feelings and cry in front of other women who share similar experiences.  I always look down while I'm crying.  It's still a process outside of treatment to feel vulnerable and share those feeling with my friends.  It's no one's fault because they're all so kind, thoughtful and loving.  It's just me having to take baby steps of rewiring my brain to feel safe and secure expressing emotions in front of people.  My best friend since high school has been in tears a couple times because she didn't know how much pain I was in over the years.  I told her that it wasn't her fault at all and that I didn't blame her for anything because I didn't know how to identify and express my emotions, so how could she know.  I hid from everyone and put on a facade for years even with my best friend.  She's so sweet and I thanked her again for all the times she's been there for me and for helping me through the worst times of my life by just being present.  I was so fearful to lose all of my friends especially my best friend if I told them all the painful and horrible things I've experienced and did to others and myself.  Those fears almost prevented me from seeking help and ultimately, resulted in physical, spiritual and emotional pain which almost killed me.

I was starting to isolate a bit last week and God sent a lot of people my way this weekend to comfort me.  A friend randomly asked me to go to dinner on Friday night and later that night, I saw another friend unexpectedly at AA and we went to see The King's Speech.  On Saturday, my best friend called and said she was in town.  I was in a deep depression the last time she was here and was stuck in bed, so it was great to see her and catch up.  I also spent time with my roomies at a birthday party for a friend.  Super Bowl Sunday, I worked out and spent time alone to reflect, so it was a good and balanced weekend.  God was very good to me because he didn't allow me to isolate for too long and got me through my intense cravings and loneliness.

I was almost to Wisconsin and decided that it probably wasn't the best place since they serve on Sundays, so I turned around and drove some more westward.  When I finally returned home from driving, I could only watch a couple minutes of the game not only because it's a trigger, but because I hate the Packers as much as I hate the Yankees if not slightly more.  I think all the players are hot, sexy and talented, but I still hate them.  The Pack has made it to the Super Bowl four times in my lifetime and it annoys me so much to the point that I couldn't even watch it this year even for the commercials.  I want to see the Vikings in the Super Bowl at least once before I die.  If not, when I'm in Heaven, I'll bug God for a miracle and watch the Super Bowl from there at my Grandma's mansion with a purple door.  She had a red house on Earth and painted her door purple because she loved all things purple including the Vikes because of their uniforms.  I miss my Grandma because she was the most nurturing to me when I was growing up and she has always been the woman who I most admire and aspire to be like someday.       

Day 83: Mating Season (2.5.11)

~All nature's creatures join to express nature's purpose. Somewhere in their mounting and mating, rutting and butting is the very secret of nature itself~ Graham Swift

The things we do for love or like.  Spring is just around the corner.  The animal kingdom has mating rituals as well as the human kingdom.  I went to check out LA Fitness at Calhoun Square in Uptown on Friday afternoon.  I want to get back into a regular workout routine that includes weights, group classes and oogling hot, schweddy men.  LA Fitness is slightly cheaper than Lifetime because they're not open 24/7, offer less classes, no salon, no towel service, etc.  I was a member at Lifetime intermittently over the years.  It's an uber nice place with a lot of sugar daddies, but I didn't want to pay that much for a club and a potentially icky relationship.  

The nice sales rep took me on a tour of LA fitness.  It was clean and open with a lot of nice dummy proof equipment.  It's a newer location and had cool cardio machines with TVs attached.   They validated parking and the locker room was clean and free of old, naked ladies walking around.  Sold!  He then asked all the standard get-to-know you questions including fitness goals.  I said I just wanted to tone up and maybe run a 5K some day. Then, the personal training manager came over and I was happy to hear his spiel because he was hot.  

I'm sure his hotness is used as a ploy to get sad and lonely, recently sober women to sign up and it was definitely working.  The truth is he had me when he just sat down and looked at me.  He didn't even need to say hello.  He had a sexy, muscular bod; 6'4" 220 maybe?!  He was articulate, smart and passionate about fitness, so I thought that made him hotter and cooler.  He was the kind of boy in high school who I would've dreamed of dating, but was way too nerdy.  Actually, I guess, I'm still nerdy or maybe even nerdier, so chances are probably nil.  I guess that's okay since I'm on an extremely frustrating, yearlong self-imposed hiatus from dating boys.  Perhaps, I can make an exception for the hot and sexy ones??   

I've said some dumb things in the past to impress boys and try to make them like me, but the following attempt was the stupidest thing I've ever said sober.  "I'd like to run a marathon someday."  The words just spewed out of my mouth as I smiled and batted my eyelids.  Somehow in that moment, I forgot that I passionately hate running.  Of course, he was impressed and happy for me because obviously, he's personal trainer whose job includes laying down the law and telling me what actions are needed to accomplish my goals and selling sessions.  I got sentenced 2 times a week for a year for adding 23.1 miles to my original race goal.  There's always the morning after when I ask myself why the f- did I do that, but this time, from saying rather than doing.  My clothes were on.  I guess, that's progress.