Roadtrip!

Sometimes things work out in a way you couldn't have planned as well yourself. This is one of those times. The cowboy's mom lives in Redding, CA and she has a couple of kayaks in her

garage that aren't being used, so he and I are going to go fetch them from her. Exploring Flathead Lake on a kayak has been a dream of mine for a couple of years - ever since I kayaked with my sister on the lake my parents live on in Georgia. Looks like I'll be doing some of that this summer now.

And for five years, since I first moved to Montana, I've dreamed of visiting the Oregon Coast. We've decided to go to Redding by way of Seattle and then the coast! I've never been to Seattle either and I'm looking forward to exploring that city for a day or two and then on to the cute little villages along the Coast, hopefully some whale watching and definitely taking in a lighthouse or two along the way. My knee will probably prevent me from getting to the top of the lighthouses, but, hey, you never know. I'm pretty pumped! I admit to being a little nervous about traveling that kind of distance while I'm still experiencing quite a bit of pain, but the cowboy assures me we will stop every couple of hours along the way and make sure I stay as comfortable as possible.

Now, if that wonderful employer of mine hadn't laid me off when he did, this trip wouldn't be possible. And if I weren't still out of work due to the surgery it wouldn't be possible. So those two things, which seemed so awful at the time, have cojoined to create this incredible opportunity.

We'll be gone 10-14 days and I will probably not have computer access, but I look forward to checking in with all my favorite bloggers when I get back. I've been having computer problems lately as well and haven't had the patience to wait for pages to load, so once again, I apologize if I haven't visited you in awhile! I hope to have many great pictures and stories to share with you when I return.

A Copy of a Copy of a Copy

I wanted to wait and resume blogging when I actually felt something positive to write about, but it looks like that may be awhile down the road so I decided to just jump back in right where I am.

Did you know that lack of sleep can make you suicidal? Homicidal even? At the very least severely depressed? It's true. Just in the past month both 60 Minutes and Oprah have had segments about insomnia and how it affects the human body, brain and emotions. It's been almost six weeks since my surgery and I'm still hurting enough at night that I don't sleep through. I have gotten up to sleeping about four or five hours at a time which is a vast improvement from the night's I haven't slept at all, but it isn't enough yet to counteract the ill effects. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad if I were like that one woman on Oprah who gets up and cleans the house and bakes cakes when she can't sleep, but about the most I can do is wander around in a daze or do a little reading.

I've developed a lovely little syndrome called patella femoral pain syndrome. It's a common complication after ACL surgery, especially for women. The PT and I are working on it with some exercises, but so far it still hurts like a . . . . well, like hell.

In a way, thank god I was laid off right after surgery because I know myself and I would've pushed myself to get back to work as soon as possible and I think if I actually had to be somewhere every morning at 8:00, someone probably would be dead. As it is, I'm doing my little side job three hours an afternoon and even after six weeks, that's about all I can handle. Of course, some days and nights are better than others and there really is light at the end of the tunnel.

The positive side to all this is that I've been forced into an exercise routine that was sorely needed and I've lost a little weight to go along with it. Oh. Did you know that lack of sleep can also cause you to gain weight? Honestly, it can wreak a lot of havoc in a person's life.

I've discovered a lot about myself in these past weeks. I think the most important discovery is that I seem to have acquired some faith somewhere along this life path. I have faith in my ability to care for myself, faith that this is all perfect timing and faith that the universe is unfolding exactly as it should. And I have faith that I will soon be pain-free and asleep for a full 8 hours. I absolutely get that this is a just a tiny blip on the screen and that each day is a gift and an opportunity. Of course, I actually slept for five hours straight last night.

Struggle or Paddling Upstream

If you've come here looking for an uplifting post, you're in the wrong place today.

I am struggling. Best to just admit it and get it out in the open where maybe some light will shine on it. I've been lucky that in 46 years, this knee surgery is the first surgery I've had - if you don't count dental surgery, and I don't. Intellectually I understand that a traumatic invasion of the body for whatever good reason is going to be depressing to some degree. The medical practitioners tried to prepare me for the pain and the long recovery time, but until you're actually living it, it's just a concept. Three weeks out from surgery I'm starting to get it. 8-12 months total recovery time. We're talking gradual here. Gradual lessening of pain, gradual increase in motion and strength, gradual healing. There will be no overnight miracle.

I've got some things floating around my mind that aren't helping any either. There are two men in this town that I am on the serious outs with. This is a small town - about 6,000 people. I've already run into one of them in the past week - the ex-live-in boyfriend of three years. The one who told me the last time we spoke that I was a lost cause, a hopeless case that he didn't want to have any more to do with. We broke up two years ago and for some insane reason I thought we could salvage a friendship out of the deal. The other? The ex-boss. The one who seems to have laid me off for reasons more personal than business. The one I had to threaten with calling the Dept. of Labor if he didn't pay me all the money I was owed. I've been pondering both of these situations a lot and while I'm not going into any more details here, I realize that the reason I've had problems with both of these men is because I am no longer willing to submit to the whims and emotions of despots and petty tyrants. I am no longer willing to let others dictate how I live, no matter how well meaning they may seem to be. I think this is the first time in my life I've actually felt like I wanted to avoid people. Which of course means it's something I will absolutely not do. Because I've been around and around both of these situations and while I know it takes two to tango and all that crap, I'm ok with my behavior. No, I didn't do everything right. Yes, maybe I did a lot wrong. But what I haven't done, and they both have, verbally or subtly, is to say YOU are wrong, your entire personhood is wrong, you don't deserve happiness or money or love or anything worthwhile. As much as I tell myself to move on and forget about all of it; as much as I believe that these experiences will make me a stronger person; as much as I know what's happened is much more about them than it is about me - it hurts.

Now, add to that the fact that I can't really exercise yet and I'm still in pain about 70% of the time and all the family's gone back to Georgia and what do you get? Me. Struggling. Do you ever feel like that's all there is to it? As my sister's friend, Mary, says, "What the fucking fuck???"

Before surgery I ordered a couple of books I thought would be inspirational to read while I was convalescing. "The Astonishing Power of Emotions" by Esther and Jerry Hicks, and supposedly channeled through a benevolent entity known as Abraham, is part of the popular Law of Attraction material. The Hicks' break thought processing down into really simple ideas. Either you're thinking upstream, against the current, with struggle, or you're thinking downstream, allowing the river to carry you along with its power and trusting in the outcome. Now, we can paddle upstream as long as we want, working hard, struggling, straining to keep our little boat moving upstream, or we can just decide to let go. They posit that the only place to start is right where you are, no matter how negative and depressed you may feel and try to find one downstream thought about any given situation. And they say that nothing you want is upstream, it's all downstream. I did that with the two men I've mentioned and it helped.

And on that note, here on this public blog, I release both of these men and the events, circumstances and emotions surrounding them with as much love as I can muster. It ain't a lot right now, but it will have to do.

The Absurdities

Is that not the ugliest thing you have ever seen? OK, not the leg, the stocking. It's a compression stocking and is used after surgeries to prevent blood clots from shooting to your heart and knocking you dead, and to keep circulation moving. But, why, I ask you, can't they make one that looks like black fishnet? I mean, really, how difficult would that be, and how much better would I feel wearing it if it were? I wonder if healing would occur more quickly if one could feel just a little bit sexy in the process, you know? I could just get one for the other leg and drive the cowboy nuts while I'm recuperating. Prime that pump so to speak.

If the stocking itself isn't absurd enough, imagine my dismay when I realized I was down to two people to help me change it: my dad or my boyfriend. Arrrgghh!!! Somebody save me from this humiliation! Funny that I don't mind the gorgeous PT changing it - must be because I know he's a professional and he's seen tons of hairy, un-cared for legs and feet in his job(remember, my injury occurred on Jan. 19th and I have not been able to reach my left foot since then!). I have PT again tomorrow and an appointment afterwards for the sutures to be removed. And even though I don't have the money for it, I'm treating myself to a pedicure afterwards and maybe a pair of black fishnets to go with it.

Yesterday, they let me switch from this leg brace to this one. The first one I have actually had to sleep with since surgery. Trust me, I'm definitely ready for something else to be sharing my bed. Honestly, can you imagine having to sleep in that thing??

I guess the biggest absurdity was receiving a pink slip three days after surgery, when I was in the most extreme pain and surely not in a psychic place to be hit with not having a job. I experienced hurt, anger, dismay, that someone I worked hard for for two and a half years felt I could be treated with such abject dismissal. And then I remembered the source. And I remembered that I had been toying with looking for another job for quite awhile, and I remembered being ambushed on the pontoon boat, and I remembered the week that I went to detox in September of 2006, which I was paid for and which got me off that awful drug, ativan, and I figure it all worked out in the end. I have acted with integrity, which is certainly not a given, but which is something I will take with me to my next job - whatever it may turn out to be. In the meantime? I'm just relaxing.

Knee Sundae with Whipped Cream and a Cherry on Top

A friend of mine gave me that card. Isn't it great? Now, I will admit to having felt picked on in the past few months, and to having been sorely tempted on numerous occasions to fall into that old yucky Victim mentality. But I've decided that whoever is doing the picking knows exactly what they're doing. Me? I'm just gonna relax.

I'm far enough away from the surgery now, and dealing with enough less pain to realize the absurdities and blessings that have occurred from this unplanned interruption in my life. My mom and sister, Pam, arrived the day before surgery. Mom flew back to Georgia last Sunday and Pam just left this (Sat.) morning. Dad got here yesterday and will stay until I feel comfortable driving myself again. They're doing me in shifts. I'm sure this is for their sanity as well as mine and is just a brilliant plan.

While I'm definitely ready for some alone time, I sure did hate to see Pam go. I've only known her for 44 years, but I learned something about Pam I never knew: in her daily life she's a school-bus driver - a no-nonsense benevolent dictator with the kids on her bus and the lung power to be heard over 20 or 30 of them. But by night I think she's a frustrated Florence Nightingale. She patiently fetched me water, food, and anything else I needed, washed my hair, did the grocery shopping, rented movies for us to watch, drove me back and forth to doctor's appointments and physical therapy, and generally took excellent care of me. And I only had to nudge her a little to keep the floor swept and the dishes washed. I'm really lucky to have the relationships I do with my sisters and I appreciate them more and more.

Speaking of physical therapy, I've decided it takes a special kind of person to deliver such torture all the while convincing you it's for your own good. I hit the jackpot with my physical therapist as he looks like this guy and despite myself I find I kinda look forward to PT. Wouldn't you? It's great to have something nice to look at when you're being twisted, and stretched, and prodded and pushed and you know you're going to hurt like hell when it's over.

You might call all that stuff one flavor of ice cream in this scrumptious little sundae I'm making. The whipped cream?

On Monday, three days after surgery, my co-workers, Peggy & Tom, showed up at my house with a letter. The letter was from my employer of the past two and a half years, and in its entirety read: "Due to seniority, you are laid off effective March 1, 2008." It had postage on it and was ready to mail which is exactly what that cowardly lion was going to do.

The cherry?

I can't seem to make myself unhappy about it. As a matter of fact, my sundae is covered with a mound of cherries on top. I'll tell you more about them in upcoming posts.

Thanks to all of my blogging friends for the great support and encouragement. It is appreciated!

100th Blog Post

Well, this is my 100th blog post and it seems as good a time as any to review where we've been for the past few months. I began this blog as an exploration into recovery from alcoholism and drug addiction. I had been trying many different recovery modalities, but had yet to find one that seemed to fit me personally. You may have noticed that not every post, maybe not even half of them, are actually about addiction or recovery. There's a reason for that.

What I hope I show here is that there is a lot more to me than the drinking problem I defined myself by for so long. A whole helluva lot more. What I hope others with similar problems may realize is that they, too, can make the choice to define themselves differently.

One of the first decisions I made was to stop attending AA. There was a time in my life, which I've written about, when AA was a catalyst for positive change, but that time had long passed and I was only hurting myself by continuing to try and find something appropriate for me there. When I would go to AA and attempt to stay sober indefinitely, and then fail in that attempt, I would beat myself unmercifully and the deep and intense guilt I would experience was much worse on me than the actual drinking. Plus, some folks in and out of AA seemed all too eager to assist me in the lashing. So I decided to quit doing that to myself. When I stopped doing it to myself, I stopped letting anyone else do it either. I think that's called empowerment.

Some of my best friends are members of AA. In keeping with their 12th tradition, I would like to say thank you to two very special women - you know who you are.

I gave myself permission to explore the things I was really interested in and the things that I felt could lead me out of alcoholism. I had this idea that a life lived with deep passion and joy would leave little room for addiction. So I deepened my inquiry into astrology and how it could help me make sense of life. I also began work with a woman who had identified as alcoholic for many years, but who had transcended that label. She introduced me to Caroline Myss' work on archetypes which was a perfect accompaniment to astrology as astrology is really all about archetypes. I decided to explore the relationship between sex, guilt and addiction - specifically how feelings of guilt around early sexual experiences could morph into addiction disorders. Eric Frances over at Planet Waves provided a space for this exploration. I intended to write more about that here, but I haven't gotten comfortable enough to be quite that open. I maintained my spiritual practices - yoga, meditation and writing. Writing is a spiritual practice for me because I cannot hide from myself when I write. I can still hide from you if I want to, but not myself. None of these explorations have turned out like I thought they would; mostly they've turned out better than I could've imagined.

The first and most wonderful change came when I noticed that I could drink without guilt. I could enjoy drinking in a social fashion. This doesn't mean that there was an instantaneous switch to moderate drinking. I sometimes still drink too much, but I no longer beat the crap out of myself for doing it. I've observed that when I am in a difficult situation or having a hard time emotionally, I can still go into heavy drinking as a coping mechanism. And I've observed that I can stop it.

As long as I believed in powerlessness as the 1st of the 12 steps requires, I really was powerless. When I would drink under that premise, I literally felt that I couldn't stop drinking and the binges could last for days or even weeks. These binges were exacerbated by an addiction to a drug called ativan which I finally broke in September of 2006. What it feels like now is that I'm backing out of alcoholism. I like to drink. I practice harm reduction by not driving when I drink, not letting it interfere with my work, and not adding anything else to the mix. I believe as long as I am responsible to my fellow human beings, I can maintain my private life as I please. No harm, no foul. This is not a popular notion these days. At the same time, I have become much too aware of where my real joy lies to get too far away from that, which is where excess drinking takes me.

I have gained more confidence, more joy and more fulfillment from following my own path, however crooked it may look to someone else, than I ever did by trying to maintain abstinence from alcohol. Anyone will tell you that abstinence from alcohol does not equal recovery. Very few, if any, people will tell you that recovery is possible while continuing to drink. But I know there are others out there like me, who believe it is possible and who will follow that belief. Some may consider us stupid, a little crazy and even hopeless. Others may consider us courageous and ground-breaking, while most of you could probably care less one way or the other. Which leads me to the second wonderful thing that's happened for me. I don't base my decisions anymore on what someone else thinks is a good idea for me. I think they call that liberation.

A few weeks ago the woman I was working with had me make a list of the positive changes I'd seen since we began working together. Here is that list:

I've had more instances of drinking and enjoying it than I have of overdoing it and regretting it.

I've felt my confidence soar.

I've done some excellent writing.

I've felt the Universe filling me up from the inside out.

I've drawn lines in the sand with people and been utterly prepared for whatever response I got.

I've spent a lot of time letting myself move through grief.

I've created a sex life for myself that doesn't require a partner and I've also enjoyed great partner sex.

I have redefined some relationships in my life to be on a more equal basis.

I'd like to add these to that list:

I've been true to myself.

I've moved out of blaming anyone, most especially myself.

I still feel the naysayer's judgment. I still wonder if they will be right in the end - if I will ultimately move back into full blown alcoholism and possibly lose my life. And then I remember: none of us gets out of here alive. Today is the day, baby. What are you going to do with it?

And on that note, this will probably be my last post before surgery. I've added some great new people to my blogroll, so please check out: Crazed and Confused, Frankiecon, Lee's River, Rae's Confessions, and The Electric Orchid Hunter.

And oh yeah, that picture? I took it with the cowboy on top of that snow-covered moutain, on a very sweet and sacred Sunday afternoon. Peace, ya'll.

Something to Fear but Fear Itself

My ACL reconstruction surgery is scheduled for Friday, February 22nd at 12:00 pm. I had my first pre-surgery physical therapy appointment yesterday afternoon. The surgeon, physical therapist and physician's assistant aren't pulling any punches with me about just exactly how painful this is going to be. I know they're just trying to prepare me, but honestly, it's freaking me out. Apparently the first 48-60 hours after surgery can be pretty excruciating and I am not looking forward to it! It's keeping me awake at night.

Proactively, I can strengthen the muscles around my knee as much as possible before surgery and that will speed recovery time. Proactively, I can take care of myself and maintain a positive attitude and I know that will help. Proactively I can focus on how much better I'll be after the surgery, how I won't have to worry about protecting it so much and how within a year I should be able to do anything I want to - yoga, hike, swim, bike. But right now I am just utterly afraid. And I feel like a 3-year old pitching a tantrum about something she has to do but doesn't want to. I want to stomp my feet (well, the right one anyway), scream and yell that it's not fair!

The worst part is I have two+ more weeks to ponder it, consider how bad it will be, obsess on it, anticipate it and dread it. Or maybe I could use those weeks more constructively. Right now, though, I feel pretty powerless over the thoughts. I'm up for any and all suggestions. And as the day approaches, prayers will be appreciated.