Sunday, May 27, 2007

Peaceful Pentecost Sunday

Yes, I just got home from church. It was wonderful. On the way out of the door, I hugged the Pastor and told him how glad I am that he is there and how grateful I am for him. One more of the things that would or could never have happened 23 years ago when I was deep in my disease.

I am also grateful that I am less than half way through a three day weekend. I still have plenty to do. I still have a headache. It might be from all the tears that seem to keep springing from my eyes. Hey, maybe I will do what I frequently do on the weekends and write a big long self-disclosing post when I have this delusional belief that no one reads my blog. Let me be quick to say that I AM grateful for anyone who does read my blog. Thank You.

It would be reasonable for you to wonder why it is that I am crying. There are many reasons, mostly to do with people I care about. The number one thing that is disturbing me these days is the fact that my only son has several more months to serve in Iraq. I seem to have lost my ability to cope with this. It being Memorial Day weekend really does not help. I cannot turn on the television set because it is too much for me to bear. He was on leave in Australia for several weeks, and I think just having a two week reprieve from having that worry hanging over my head made the weight of its presence so much more unbearable now. I have faith that I will get used to it again and cope again with it. But for now... not so good. (and the fact that I do not feel free to talk about this because people use it as a platform from which to launch their political vitriol does not help!)

I have been at my workplace for nearly 13 years. In those years, I have seen many people I have grown to care about leave. I have seen a few die. In my current incarnation, I am rather isolated. I sit in my office and analyze - it is my job. However, I need human contact. In the last several years, I have become very close to two women - they both gave notice two weeks ago. There is no one else in the organization I am close to anymore. Thank God my daughter works in the same building. But as for workie girlfriends... no mas.

Then, on Thursday night, the man I am dating (but not talking about) called to tell me he is moving. I had been dealing with this fairly well. We had dinner on Friday night and I saw him craning his neck to look at something behind me... it was a TV set in the bar part of the restaurant which had a baseball game on. Then the spring of involuntary tears flowed again down my face. I do not normally watch baseball, but when we started seeing each other last year, much of our courtship involved baseball in one way or another - so to me it is all about him. I was talking with him on the phone yesterday and he said "do you have a cold?" because I was crying again. When I saw him yesterday I cried again. He is touched by this, but he has always marveled at the frequency of my crying, so he isn't overly upset by my tears (and believe me, this is a good thing.)

People change, grow, move on, and move away. Somehow in my second decade of sobriety I started being really consistent. I never was before. But since 1994, I have had the same job. I have had attended the same AA groups, I have attended the same church since 1998. I have lived in the same home since 2001... I have had the same phone number since 1998. I have had the same cellular phone number since 1997! But in that time, people have come and gone into and out of my life. Even my sponsor moved last year!

When I was drinking, people were basically scenery to me. They were props in the drama of my life. They were definintely interchangable. When one left, there was always another to replace them, I never spent any time suffering over it. Since I came to my first meeting on July 24, 1984, I have learned to love people. I care about them. I care about their well-being. I have joy in my heart when I see them. I still regularly see the man who took me to my first meeting. I still regularly converse via e-mail with the woman who was my first sponsor (she now lives outside of London).

This is the good news. I actually care deeply about people who are in my life. I care deeply about some of the bloggers I have come to know over the last almost 2 years. Thank God I have the ability to care, but with it comes pain as well as joy.

Happy Sunday everyone.

"Only God is unchanging, only He has all the truth there is." -- As Bill Sees It, p. 76 (the book opened to this page, cool)


Meg Moran said...

I just want to say that I understand and care. Circumstances may be different, but much of what you write is about feelings that I have had also. I guess the good news is that we are sober and feel things at a deeper level (and thats the bad news too). It's risky putting ourselves into heartfelt relationships whether its in person, on the net, at work, whatever, because there will ALWAYS be change. I know that these changes are hard for you right now and I want you to know that I care.

Scott W said...

I just got home from the Came to Believe meeting and breakfast with the usual suspects. As I pulled in I had the urge to see my landlady and her new baby (he is 8 weeks tomorrow). I was struck by his tiny-ness and that one day he would be at least as tall as I. She and I both remarked how incredible it is that we were once that small.

I do not have the experience of having children. It is not my lot this lifetime. But I sense a trememdous amount of fear in those that have loved ones serving in the war theatre. There is such uncertainty, such a void when someone is removed to such an abstract place.

All I can say to you and to others that have missing loved ones is that you are loved, and have done your job as best you could. And prayers all around.

Ann P. said...

Pentecost prayers for your son in Iraq...may his Higher Power, who is All Powerful, guide and protect him and, God willing, bring him safely home once again. And may the same loving God give you peace and comfort.

lash505 said...

are you wearing red.. see ya soon..

Kari Sullivan said...

I figured when i got sober that I wouldn't cry as much as I did when I was drinking. I keep hearing at meetings people saying that they are so much happier now that they stopped drinking. And I am glad to be sober, but geez, when is the crying supposed to stop?

I wish there was something I could say that could make you feel better. Maybe if I was one of these superheroes with 10+ years of sobriety, I'd know what to say. But I'm not and I don't.

All I can say is that if you're crying, know that in that moment I'm probably crying too. So maybe we can just cry on each others shoulders, so to speak. And I'll say some prayers for you and your son, that he may stay safe and come home soon.

Peace out!

P.S. Ever try to take the weird combos of letters from the Word Verifictation and try to make an Acronym out of it? I just got XTGNHIRX. Hmmmm...this could take a while!!!!

Scott said...

well shoot, ya definitely have some tuff stuff to go through... I have a lot of trouble with other people, whether it's worry, communication, dependance or just plain loving them and missing them when they go.... But, at least now in recovery we have a God of our understanding to teachus and show us how to deal...

Kool thing that bible school, I would love to hear more about that MC!

hang in there.... I will be praying for you...

peace and hugs!

Shannon said...

I love it when I open one of our books and it plops on to something that I really need to read, same thing for meetings, everytime I go, there is always something there I need to hear. I love you humaness. I love how much you do care. It is a miracle for some of us to care at all..

I dont think there is anything I can say. I hear you Mary Christine, and my heart aches with yours. I have you and your son, and daughters in my prayers.

I hope tonight, that peace just surrounds you and comforts you

jrhighpeteacher said...

MC, I read you on feed, so I just heard this little *ping* and here is your post.

Sometimes, life is just hard and sad. I thought that as soon as I had 5 or 10 or (gasp!) 25 years, I would be on easy street and much of my life would be very balanced.

It is. It's balanced when you cry because your son is in Iraq. It's balanced to miss a man that you're fond of. It's balanced when you tell the truth.

It just hurts sometimes. Yeah, we don't get special compensation from life's difficulties, just because we're sober, but we get to be on the INSIDE of the rooms.

One last thought. A girl from a neighboring fellowship overdosed and died last night. I watched her come in and out and in and out.

You have the gift. You do. Just so honored to be a part of your bloggy community.

Blessings to you on Memorial Day. Maybe hit one of those services. They are intense, but so satisfying.


Christine said...

thank you for talking to me this way today, I appreciate you