The Days Are Just Packed

My recovery sometimes feels like a machine with lots of moving parts. Considering I was born in 1980, I'll use the analogy that my recovery is like a super-sweet car made in 1980. Considering there were no super-sweet cars made in 1980, I'll use the analogy that my recovery is like a 1980 Ford Pinto.

My bad ass recovery

In order for the Pinto to run at it's maximum maximum-ness it requires fuel. I, too, require good fuel. I need to eat a healthy diet. All the aspects of my recovery are necessary to the Pinto running smoothly. I need some magic number of meetings every week, sponsors, proper rest, exercise, socializing, school, work, counseling, time with my family, time alone... All these things contribute to my overall well-being and allow me to function in a not-crazy way. They are the transmission, wheels, pistons and the other parts I can't remember. Like the Pinto, I also have an exhaust. Because I am gassy. 

Anyways, I need all of these things to be in proper working order for me to get through a week without becoming horribly depressed, irritable, bratty or (worst of all) drunk. These days I feel much more solid in my recovery than ever before and worry less about falling into a drink and think more about just being sane and kind to people around me. Giving each one of my needed parts it's due share of time is a delicate balancing act. Considering I need a certain amount of sleep each week, I have a finite number of hours to divide my time among some demanding chores. I work about 30 hours a week, spend 20 hours at school, 7 hours in meetings... I'm terrible at math so you can figure out the rest if you care to. The point is: I have a tough time fitting it all in. 

I frequently don't get the mix right. I devote too much time to one area and not enough to another. Lately I've been fortunate to do more socializing than usual. There have been dinners, breakfasts, lunches, more breakfasts and baseball games where I ate tacos. Usually food is involved. It's weird. But I gave too much time to my social life and suddenly found myself getting fatter than I want to be because every social thing I do involves me stuffing myself with fried things. Also, I forgot to study and that was stupid. 

That's how I found myself this morning. Stressed, tired, unprepared for my demanding classes and malnourished because I didn't eat any vegetables for two days. I shook my angry fist at the sky as I hurried out the door, late for my ferry. I groaned through a quiz and found things to hate about every one of my classmates (in this order: poor grammar, swears too much, know-it-all, too smirky, always late). I was being a total shithead and I knew it. But I don't just take out my bad mood on others. I reserve the worst of it for myself. I look at myself in the mirror and despise what I see. I mock the little pouch of weight I gained over the winter. I say the most vile and defeatist things about myself. 

Fortunately, I have some tricks up my sleeve. The first trick was: shut my mouth. Just be nice. keep my ugly opinions to myself. The next trick was to get some exercise. I took a yoga class. At the beginning of the class I couldn't even look myself in the mirror without boiling with anger at the Kevin that I saw. But I worked hard at the yoga class (only my third in sobriety) and started to talk myself down. "You're doing the best you can. You've come so far. You're perfect the way you are." 

When I couldn't handle looking at myself, I allowed myself to think positive thoughts about the others in the class. The young instructor is friendly and pretty. The other students are trying hard too. We are all succeeding together. By the end of the class I liked what I was seeing in the mirror. Our instructor had us lay on our mats at the end and close our eyes. She came around and rubbed her oil-scented hands in the air above my nose and gently rubbed my shoulders once. Namaste. 

I felt restored. I left the class lighter than I entered it. I met a classmate at a nearby restaurant where we studied for another quiz we have on Wednesday and I ate a kale and farro salad. I bounded down the hill to my ferry home with time to spare. I did some homework, laughed at a funny television show and went to a meeting. 

All of these tools have been given to me by my friends in recovery. I owe them my life. I hope that some of my readers (be you an alcoholic or not) will get something out of what I write. I would like nothing more than to share these solutions with somebody who could use them. Can you imagine what this world would be like if we all took a few hours every week to do some yoga, eat some fresh vegetables and get together in groups to talk about topics like "tolerance" or "patience"? Would people still bomb athletic events? Probably. But I'm sure not as often. 

I'm not saying I'm perfect. For God's sake, I'm a 1980 Ford Pinto. But I'm the best fucking Pinto I can be. Thanks for reading my blog. I love you.