Adolescence

I identified with Kenny's post about loneliness. Sometimes I get that old feeling, that I'm alone in an alien world. It came over me briefly last night, alone at McDonalds having a cup of coffee. The urge to flee, run away, somewhere, anywhere, to hide. I'm grateful I don't get that panicky despair very often any more, and that I've been given some tools to handle it. Last night the tools that came to hand were being responsible for the second thought I have, along with good old Rule 62.

I had just left my wife and son at her apartment. I drove them to LA, after she came back the previous day from surgery in Mexico. I was so happy to see my son's delight in being with his mommy, at his "usual" home, playing with the little girl next door he adores, after almost three weeks apart from these people and things he loves so much. At the same time, I had spent 24 hours with my wife so I was ready to strangle her, and I was going to go back home alone after being with my son for those three weeks, so I was already missing him.

I was taking my new sponsor's suggestion by checking bulletin boards at a couple Alano clubs to see if anyone in the Fellowship was seeking a roommate or tenant. I stopped for a cup of coffee, just to settle and center a bit. And I briefly had this view that my life is ridiculous and insane. But before long, I was sort of smiling to myself, yeah, it is pretty nuts in a lot of ways, but it's the life I have and I'm actually starting to enjoy it. Then I got up, went to the Alano club and caught a meeting.

----------------------------------------

The meeting turned out to be a small men's cross-talk, discussing problems on people's minds. I didn't share -- I didn't know anyone and I was still feeling a little "alien." I was grateful that my problems seem so small compared to the ones others face. At the same time, I felt at a loss to offer anything that would help.

The day before, my book study meeting was chapter seven, Working with Others, a manual for how to twelfth-step a prospect. It felt like a Plato dialogue, the self-assured confident twelfth-stepper, knowing exactly where he's going, leading the poor schlepp of a prospect into the light through structured conversation. This twelfth-stepper is willing to jeopardize his family, bring a drunk into his home to smash the furniture and burn the beds, in his commitment to carry the message. I realized, this is beyond my grasp, I can't make sense of this yet. I readily identified with the prospect, but the twelfth-stepper is in a different league.

At the same time, my response was neither, "There must be something terribly wrong with me," nor "The book is bullshit." It was simply, "I don't get it." Maybe in time I will, as so much of the book has become clear gradually.

This stuff makes me think I'm in something like the "adolescence" of recovery. I'm no longer a baby in the program, I'm not the same man I was a year ago. But my recovery is not yet mature -- there is much more to be revealed. I like that, actually. I love the changes I've experienced so far, and the prospect of more to come is exhilirating.

I want it all. I want everything life has to offer me. I want every blessing God wants me to have.

----------------------------------------

A few days ago Dryblog posted a link to a site of California recovery resources. With a couple clicks, I was looking at the page of an organization that runs sober living houses and apartments in the part of LA I'm moving to. Last night at the Alano club, the director's card was on the bulletin board. Hmmmm... Any thoughts?