One of the first lessons my mother taught me ... "Never invite trouble into your life." 

Day before yesterday, I heard from a friend I haven't heard from in quite a while ... it's been at least six months or so.  I talked with said friend on the phone for a while in a "Let's do coffee" sort of way.  Today I received a text from my long lost friend ...

TXT:  coffee

MY TXT:  where?

TXT:  starbucks manhattan

MY TXT:  i'm there

I thought that I had missed my friend very much and even fretted a little about not hearing from them.  We "did" coffee.  No big deal.  They shared with me what was going on in their life.  Drama, drama, drama.  It made me realize that there was plenty stress that came with the friendship.  We parted ... no future plans.  "It was nice.  See ya."

I sometimes forget that people often have a hidden agenda ... or a not so hidden agenda.  I received another text this evening from said friend.

TXT:  pain pills

I didn't respond.  Responding would have been inviting trouble into my life.  I've had enough trouble to last me a lifetime.  I guess I'll find out if my friend will punish me for not giving up my pain killers.  People have a tendency to kick you to the curb when you've out-lived your usefulness.  God knows it wouldn't be the first time.  How very sad.

It's close enough now to my departure date to go home (to California) that I can start planning, packing, etc. 

I'm not great at preparing for trips. This is evidenced by the fact that when I evacuated for Hurricane Katrina I took a couple pair of panties and perfume.  Great packing right?  Yeah, for a hooker!  Well ... never mind.  Anyway, truly, I thought we were only going to be gone for three days.  I didn't know I was packing for months.  This time I don't have the pressure of a category 5 hurricane on my heels and I know I"m going to be gone for a month.

I don't know if it's the MS or nervousness, but I can't seem to pull myself together and think straight so I'm going to start a little list here and see how this goes.

First on the itinerary:

4/11 
Storage to get suitcase
dry cleaners

4/12
Haircut (just a trim) 11:15AM

I think I might be a slow starter on this ... my mind just went blank.  I'm going to keep updating this post as I go.  Gotta run.

If I don't get by your place to say Happy Friday, I'm saying it now, have a great Friday, y'all!

XOXOXO

p.s. -- those butterflies in my stomach just morphed into eagles.

*EDIT*

Okay, it's 5:07.  Did I go to storage to get my suitcase?  No.  Did I go to the dry cleaners?  No.  Did I get anything done?  Actually yes, I sent off my tax forms to for my "STIMULUS PAYMENT".  It was much easier than I thought it was going to be.  I also bought three pairs of shoes.  Since Katrina, I largely have flip-flops and tennis shoes.  Today I bought two beautiful pair of casual shoes - one pair black, one pair brown, and a pair of slip-on tennis shoes, my favorites!

Then I stopped at B&N and bought two DVDs that were on sale -- "The Lake House" and a Jane Austen set with Sense and Sensibility and Persuasion.

I was going to go to storage after B&N but I was just too wiped out.  Maybe tomorrow after my hair cut.  Wait, let me rephrase that ... my hair TRIM.  I think anything I need to buy can wait until Sunday.  There'll be less traffic and less people out and about.

Gotta nap now.  I'm so tired.  Shopping wiped me out!

Zzzz Zzzzzz

My family suffered many years behind my active addiction.  For the last seventeen years, since I've been clean, I've really tried to walk the walk of a responsible adult.  I've been good.  No drugs, no alcohol, no whoring, no stealing, no lying and recently, with those I trust, no more hiding.

I spoke with my oldest brother today and told him something about myself that I thought would disappoint him.  Something that I've only told two other people -- one is my sister and the other a very loving and devoted friend.  I thought they would be disappointed in me as well.  I was stunned that not one of them expressed any disappointment or disapproval.

My oldest brother truly surprised me.  When I told him I needed to talk to him about something important I heard him gasp.  I quickly told him, almost without taking a breath.  Don't worry. It's not bad.  I'm not using, drinking, going to jail or anything like that. 

It wasn't a short story.  He listened quietly even though he knew almost from the start where my story was leading.  When I was done, he said -- "I love you and nothing you could do would disappoint me.  I might be hurt if you were in a bad way, because I love you, but I wouldn't be disappointed.  This is fine."

It's  been a hard three and a half years.  I've kept so much from my family.  I couldn't go home, face them and know I was hiding something from them.  The funny thing is that basically all they cared about was whether or not I was okay, when I would be getting there and how long I'd be staying.

Though I had to walk through hell to find out, I've never been more sure of anything in my entire life than this ...

I am loved unconditionally.

I wish I could share this feeling with everyone.  It's powerful.

It's hump day ... and you know what that means!  That's right, kiddies!  The Humpty Dance is your chance to do the hump!  DO it, ba-by!

the Humpty Pup!

In my house, the battle of the twisty tie vs plastic clip method of closure is fought daily.

Who ever invented these is on the top of my "Grrrr List" today! 

They're supposed to make it handy and easy to close a bread bag, right?  Do they work?  Ummm .... NO!  At least my inept little fingers can never, ever put one of these back on the bread bag without breaking it.  Either that or it goes flying somewhere that only a contortionist could retrieve it.  Then I have to hunt down a twisty to close the bag because Mr. Man would give me that "You're too stupid to attach a bread bag clip" look.  And, by the way, by the time the bag of bread is empty, the twisty is so worn, it's poking me in the finger or hand everytime I reach in the bread box for something else.  If I closed the bag according to my preference, I would either (a) twirl the bag real good until the bag is securely closed, tuck the excess under the bread bag and put it in the bread box OR (b) tie the excess loosely so that it's closed but not impossible to open again.  Is that so bad?  Apparently, yes. 

So I bought these cool little "chip clips" that are oh so very handy to take off and put on.  Now, whoever thought of that was brilliant.  Why?  Because it's an old idea given a new twist.  It's a clothes pin!  What a genius with, I bet, a comfortable little chunk in his/her bank.  I remember hanging clothes on the clothes line and when those babies broke, you didn't throw them away.  Noooooo!  You put them back together.  Most chip clips are made just that way.

And while I'm ranting about stupid manufacturing ideas, who the hell designed a stick of deordorant so that when you get down to the end, a good useable size chunk falls on the floor and there's no way to cram it back into the holder and it wouldn't matter anyway because it now has dust bunnies or hair on it.  Ewwww!  And who the heck thought of the sharp edges on the holder, or that little pokey thing in the middle that feels like a cat scratch on your eyeball?  Who, huh? Huh?  HUH?

I must say a hundred times a week ... that's how they get ya .. that's how they get your money.  It's little stuff like that ... that's the stuff that make me go "grrrrr".

Okay, I'm over it now.

I haven't seen my family since before Katrina.  The last time I was home was to bring my mother's ashes home with me.  That was three and a half years ago.  Today I started the ball rolling.  I'm going home and will be staying a full month. 

When I called my sister to consult her about viable dates, we both cried.  Tomorrow I'll be calling my oldest brother -- I'm sure there will be more tears -- certainly on my end.  No, my jackass brother won't be informed -- it's best for everyone.  Together, he and I are toxic.  No matter how forgiving and open I try to be, in his perpetual drunken state, he's hateful towards me.  It is what it is and I can accept that.

I'm sitting here staring at the cursor blinking and wondering what more I can say.  What I feel inside I have no words for.  All I can think of is ...

I'm going home.

Sunday fun with free association ...

"Rules are, there are no rules." There are no right or wrong answers. Don't limit yourself to one word responses; just say any crazy, deranged thing that pops into your head.  Have fun with it!

1. Nutritious :: food minus the yummy
2. Graduate :: "Mrs. Robinson, you're trying to seduce me ... aren't you? "
3. Tonight! :: Phil Collins - In The Air Tonight
4. Located :: Where yat?, GPS
5. Weapon :: the wife or mother "look" -- the one that makes a man want to duck or whimper with fear
6. Jumper :: rabbit --> Thumper, cables, hurdles, one who jumps to conclusions
7. Collectibles :: clutter, dust catchers, momentos, shoes and purses, Happy Bunny-wear
8. Dennis :: the Menace, Leary
9. Hostile :: territory, natives, witness
10. Vivid :: clearly, detailed

Mutterings courtesy of LunaNina.  You can mutter there or mutter in my comments.  Enjoy!

I've been meaning to write about this when it first happened.  I don't know why I put it off.  Today I received a phone call that reminded of the incident which seems the perfect time to finally post it.

I've witnessed many things that I thought could be called miraculous.  Many were things that happened to me while I was active in Narcotic Anonymous.  Like my impending twenty-year prison sentence being dismissed before I even had to go to court.  I heard the news, I was at work.  I dropped to my knees and cried.  I'm still clean -- 17 years 6 months 5 days.  Although I no longer attend Narcotics Anonymous meetings, I still follow the principles and I am still in contact with many recovering addicts.

Today I received a call from DA to tell me how much she appreciated what I had taught her.  I couldn't imagine what she was referring to since I hadn't seen DA in a dogs age, at least.  That's when she reminded me of the talk we once had and "the medallion".

Sixteen years ago, I was sponsoring a young girl.  I met her at a meeting when she was still in a halfway house.  She liked what I had to say and saw something in me she wanted to emulate -- basically, she liked my recovery -- so she asked me to sponsor her.  I agreed.  When she had two years clean I gave her a special silver and gold medallion with the roman number II on it -- sample here.  The design has changed some.  Back in those days, the lettering was smaller and there was room to have the medallion personalized.  On the medallion I had engraved my initials (FC), my sponsor's initials (EP), her sponsor's initials (LP) and her sponsor's initials (DA) ... four women all in the same sponsorship line with an approximate 50 years of combined recovery.  I wanted my sponsee to see that recovery works.  I wanted her to know that she could go to any one of those women (in essence, her grand-sponsor, great grand-sponsor and great great grand-sponsor) if she needed a ear or a shoulder and especially if she wasn't getting what she needed from me.

Through the years, several of us have relapsed -- CR -- who was the young girl I sponsored, EP -- my sponsor and DA, my great grand-sponsor.  EP is still using -- she says, "because I want to".  CR returned to recovery but DA bounced in and out of recovery.  One night at a meeting I hugged her and told her that I had faith in her -- that I knew she could do it.  She said she was going to try but that she was skeptical.  "Have you ever seen anyone relapse and come back to accumulate any kind of clean time?"  "Yes," I said, "me."  I had relapsed at nine years clean, stayed loaded for several years and by the time we had that discussion, I had five years clean again.  DA continued to bounce in and out of recovery for years.

Last month, DA celebrated two years clean!  A whole two years.  Quite remarkable for someone who's been in the revolving door of active addiction for about ten years.  CR, who used to be at the bottom of the sponsorship line, now has more recovery than DA and is sponsoring her.  On the night that DA was going to a meeting to be recognized for two years clean, CR called me.  Crying, she told me that she still had the medallion and would be giving it to DA at the meeting that evening.  The same medallion that had DA's initials on it when she was at the top of the sponsorship line.  Then I cried -- it made me so proud of them both.

It's amazing -- a gesture of faith, a kind word, a gentle hug -- these things affect people and it stays with them for years to come. DA was the woman who hugged me, loved me when I was no longer lovable and gave me faith when I was crawling out of the gutter ... gave me kindness freely and graciously ... later on, because of the gifts she gave me, I was able to share them with her.  Now, seventeen years later we've come full circle.  We may have changed places in the sponsorship line but one thing will never change -- the love between women bound together by the same struggle and the same triumph, one day at a time.

Often when I vent, it becomes a draft -- not today.

Before you walk back through that door, I hope it isn't too hard for you to wipe me off the bottom of your shoe.  Just because I wasn't able to dodge the sole of your cruelty as it came down on my heart, doesn't mean I'm willing to be your doormat.  I have loved you for years and yet you still haven't learned that when you hurt me, you're only hurting yourself.

Your words kill my love for you in bits.  You fling your cruelty at me but it's like swinging at the specks of dust floating in a lone shaft of sunshine.  You can't destroy me, you can only "disturb" me before I being to float in a me-like pattern again.  The mean-you has become commonplace -- expected -- no longer feared -- just more hatred in love's clothing to watch out for.

Lashing out, apologizing, lashing out, apologizing -- it's a cycle like the phases of the moon -- predictable.  Sorry doesn't mean crap if nothing changes.  It means nothing at all ... just like when you say you love me and act like nothing ever happened, knowing full well you'll lash out again -- it's what you do.  Why can't you realize that though the heart may forgive, the remnant of the wound won't let me forget. The memory of the pain may disappear but the scar?  Scars fade, but they never go away.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

no worries.
 it's a rant, nothing more.
I'm fine

More for my own information than anything else ...

Yesterday and last night I struggled with MS related neuropathic pain.  It's left me with what I call a "pain hangover".  It wears me out emotionally.  My spirit feels deflated.  My resilience isn't in evidence today.  I'm guessing my body knows what it needs better than I do so I'm chillin'.

I need to find a better way to keep track of my symptoms.  I really hesitate to do it with a calendar because if I see several days of symptoms in a row, it can be distressing (stress will exacerbate MS symptoms) and can be depressing as well. 

Besides feeling beat up, I'm not feeling very communicative right now so forgive my silence and the absence of visits, tags, comments and hugs ... except for just this one group hug from me ...

(((((((((( y'all ))))))))))