Breathe. That was the advice I was giving myself on one of my OA phone calls, one of the first ones.
I didn’t sneeze at the concert. That’s good. I must have not subjected my body to the toxins I have been known to do, which cause my body to try to rid itself of them.
Hate and love.
If a power greater than myself might see fit to restore me to sanity, then it probably is more interested in love than hate. If I can consider believing in that power, then I can also consider believing in the possibility that it doesn’t hate me. And if It doesn’t hate me, then maybe there’s some hope of me not hating myself either.
I guess I don’t expect any readers of this writing to come away chock full of brilliantly thought out ideas. I would just like to think that they would be able to breathe a little easier. To feel less trapped inside of their own fears and neuroses. I guess there’s a difference between just making yourself take a breath, and breeeaathing. Breeeaathing. There’s also a difference between trying to quiet your chattery mind, and experiencing a natural quiet and peacefulness from another place.
Tag Archives: program
harmonie
I am amusingly forgiving in regards to my particular brand of overdosing. My brand of bingeing. My brand of self poisoning. My brand of the death march.
What am I doing on Earth? I wonder if I’m getting any closer to figuring that out. I seem to have been put here to confuse, hurt, and please people. I was put here to eat an inordinate amount of food, junk or otherwise. Just as long as it’s inordinate.
I was put here to watch an inordinate amount of tv. I was put here to be unproductive. I was put here to spend. I was put here to be sore in my left arm. I was put here to keep wisdom to myself.
Isolating should also be mentioned.
Listening to oodles of music from a variety of sources has been a lifelong pastime.
I have written some journals, I guess. They cover the gamut. Although there is certainly a lot of repetition.
When will I find out why I was really put here? Tonight? How’s tonight? Was I put here to help build and run a few restaurants? Was I put here to keep a house in order? I wonder if the 12 step program can elucidate these questions for me. It’s tricky though, isn’t it. I don’t give myself to this program. Maybe because it really is a tall order. It certainly isn’t what I have typically done in my lifetime, as a whole. I am more likely to do Mad Libs and eat chocolate til the wee hours than do the soul searching and higher power opening up necessary to be a program role model.
twined
If I am desperate enough, what will I be willing to do?…to salvage myself.
It is like everything is a puzzle that I must figure out. Mr. self sufficiency.
Do I ever ask for help with anything? God forbid a higher power. I think if I can just unravel these puzzles set out before me, then I will be alright.
Step two involves sanity. What if the definition of insanity is thinking you are totally self sufficient? Another definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over and expecting different results.
The way I’ve been taught, Step two is insane in itself. That a power greater than myself could affect some sort of change, restoring me to sanity. What??? That’s nuts.
If only all of my efforts on my own behalf have exclusively gotten me the desired results.
Things must seem altogether different to someone that puts themselves in the hands of a higher power on a regular basis. And not out of some sort of desperation. But because, why not? Why not hedge your bets? Why not direct their faith towards something that has seen them through some tough times, so it seems. Is analyzing and puzzling things necessarily the end all and the highest calling of one’s mind, let alone spirit?
It’s really hilarious that I am sitting here writing this at 1:33 in the morning. Hilariously strung out. I string myself out with my addictions, never letting it go, never regrouping, until I have nothing left but exhaustion, utter solitude, pure discomfort. What can it be worth at this point?
I guess it’s worth something. But look at the exorbitant price paid.
enviable
What’s the point of writing? I immediately see the point. What’s the point of not writing? I rarely see the point. We are at the Y. At her behest. I like to come here, but not for me.
I need to get to work. Work inside and out. Writing is inside work. It can lead to good outside work. I need to use the tools, the OA tools. They are a better plan than what I seem to have come up with from my own personal history.
I heard that gluttony and perhaps sloth are too judgmental to be productive ways of inventorying myself. Not forgiving. I don’t know. Dick suggested the 7 deadly sins as a starting point, didn’t he?
I would say it’s safe to say that gluttony and sloth are close bedfellows. Avarice? Hmmm. What is your potential? Where is the bar? An outside program helps to provide a non moving bar. Or any bar. An outside philosophy. Don’t rely on your own shaky will power.
I think anything that keeps me on track and isn’t hurtful is helpful. If it’s the sins, the Y, the meetings, the fellowship, work, friendship.