God Shot #1

What is a “God Shot?” A God Shot is when something happens in our lives that results in an unexpected blessing or lesson learned; one that can only be defined as “divine intervention” or a “divine appointment.” These experiences can be described as ordained coincidences, messages from others or sometimes an intuitive thought that had a great impact on us.

I have experienced many of these in the past 3 years ( I talk about one of them in the post before this one) and I’m going to attempt to recall them for you as I continue my recovery journey transparently on this blog. So, from here on out, I’ll be sprinkling my God Shot stories in with my recovery story that keeps changing. Before I share one that happened this past week, I shall go back in history to set up the story:

It was the year 1998 and I was being pursued by a guy I worked with.  He wasn’t really my type but he had a charm and charisma about him that made him attractive.  He also had a girlfriend who just so happened to be a girl I was friends with briefly before she transferred schools a few years before.  She was absolutely gorgeous and I didn’t understand why he would want to be with me and not her. He told me over and over that they had broken up, that she was a psycho ex-girlfriend and I believed him.  I believed every single one of his lies for the next 4 years until I finally broke up with him, knowing he already had another girl on the back burner, just as the same ex-girlfriend had done with him.

Fast forward 23 years later and this same ex-girlfriend (HR) randomly popped into my dreams.  A couple days later, a friend mentioned her colleague who had the same name in a conversation and I instantly remembered HR in my dream and felt a strong urge to send her a message.  I had looked her up before back when our shared ex-boyfriend had been contacting me but I couldn’t find her. However, this time, I did.  I sent her a message, apologizing for “stepping on her toes” way back when.  I wanted her to know, that even though I was sure she was just as happy as I was to not have ended up with him, I still felt bad for what I did and that I was sorry.  And she responded.  What happened next is the God Shot.

We started chatting and at one point HR says “I feel like we would have been friends had f*** face not been in the picture.” That’s when I ran upstairs to my 8th grade year book and sent her pictures of our middle school cheer squad that we were on together.  I told her “we WERE friends” and reminded her that she had left a note for me at the school office, saying goodbye, as she was transferring to the middle school across the street.  She then proceeds to tell me that just that morning, her daughter (who now goes to the same school we went to) asked to see HR’s yearbook because she didn’t believe that her mom went to the same school. Literally the same exact morning that her daughter asked to see proof, I popped into her message box and gave her hard evidence that indeed she did attend the same school as her daughter.

Most people would just look at this story as a coincidence.  But when you walk in blind faith, you know that there are no coincidences.  I was supposed to reach out to HR; and not just because she needed to proof for her daughter. It’s because God knew we were sister’s in Christ and that we needed to be friends. And now, we are.  We don’t know exactly why yet, but I’m excited to find out.

#morewillberevealed

Skeletons 3.7: My Reactiveness – Part 2

**This was originally published October of 2020. I haven’t written a new post since this one and I’m ready to “get back at it!” But before I do, I want to share this one again.**

It was a long hug; with a stranger whom less than an hour prior, I was cursing at.

When we broke our embrace, she looked at me and said again, “just pray sweetie, God will give you peace.”

My car had been towed the night before and I had acted a fool towards the people at the tow lots. When I got to work, the thought came to me “you need to go back to that first lot and make amends.” And that’s what I did. I also was inspired to visit the second lot as well and thankfully, the woman from earlier was still there. She greeted me with a huge smile.

Her: What are you doing back here?

Me: Well, I really felt bad for my behavior this morning so I wanted to come and bring you gift.

I handed her a voucher to come to my skin care studio. She was shocked…and so was I. I couldn’t believe what I was doing. Then I asked her if she was a Christian and she said she was and that she goes to a church less than 5 minutes from my house. She invited me and I attended once. A week later, the pastor had a stroke and then a week after that, our country shut down.


THAT, my friends, is what I consider a “God Shot.” No, I didn’t make that up. It’s a term I learned in “the rooms;” and I’ve experienced A LOT ever since that day.

But before I get to the best part, I need to finish telling you what it was like before I experienced, what I can confidently say, was the day I woke up a brand new person.

March 13, 2020 – we got the official word that my husband had been predicting for weeks: schools were closing. And I welcomed it. My husband is self-employed and I work part time, so we were were actually kind of excited at the idea of all the family bonding time and getting projects done. No schedules, no lunches to be made, no lines to wait in for drop off and pick up; it was a “break” that I deemed a blessing in the midst of tremendous uncertainty.

It was great. For about a month. Next thing I knew, feelings of depression and anger started setting in. Like many parents, I was starting to lose my mind. I found myself fighting those episodes of rage that had finally stopped and I was crying. Every. Single. Day. I was overindulging on sugar and self-medicating in excess with marijuana. I was spiraling and felt out of control with my emotions once again.

Something had to change. At this point, I knew that my girls were not returning back to school any time soon and my new facial business that I had JUST opened in January was going to remain closed for an undetermined amount of time. Once again, I felt lost and defeated.

R2 had told me about this 40 Day sugar fast she was doing alongside a book that is meant to transform your spirituality and relationship with Christ. It had already been put on my heart that maybe my over-indulgence in sugar was affecting my brain, so I took this as a sign that I needed to fast and read the book too.

I started the book on Tuesday, May 26th.

On May 29th, I cried out to God to help me.

I begged.

I pleaded.

I surrendered.

And on May 30th, the Holy Spirit took over and things haven’t been the same since.

#morewillberevealed

Skeletons 3.6: My Reactiveness -Part 1

**This was originally published in September, 2020**

I started this post about a year ago and the time has come to finish it.

I think I have a legit anger problem.  At 7+ years sober, I only just recently figured this out about myself a couple weeks ago.

H had pissed me off about something that, of course, I can’t remember now.  I was (and still am) trying to quit smoking cigarettes. So naturally, my go to when I am mad at him is to rebel. I went, bought a pack, took them home and puffed 2 down in a matter of 10 minutes (or less!)

I felt guilty after and it hit me right then and there: wow, anger is a major trigger for me.

Just like I did when I drank.  I drank AT people, places and things.


I have now been sober from alcohol for 8.5 years.  Exactly 102.06 months, 3,106 days and 74,549 hours.

And guess what?!? 15 days ago, I hit 2 years clean from Adderall.

Both of those are miracles but I’ve got even a better one that I cannot wait to tell you about.

Up until 4 months ago, I was still struggling with my anger management.  While I was no longer experiencing episodes of rage, I was still allowing my emotions to get the best of me; leaving me filled with tremendous guilt, shame, and remorse.

Earlier this year, we had house guests for the whole month of February.  Towards the end of their stay, I was ready for things to “go back to normal” and wasn’t coping very well.  My husband had been following the virus infiltrating our country and preparing our home for the impending lockdowns; and like many Americans in the early days, I didn’t truly understand the severity of what we were facing and that ” going back to normal” was never going to happen.

One week left in February and my car was towed from outside my house.  I was enraged.  The next morning, upon arriving at the tow lot, I saw that the gate was open.  So instead of going into the office to pay for the release of my car, I decided I would just walk on the lot and take it.

Adrenaline had taken over and aint’ nobody was going to stop me.  I was immediately approached by a man who told me I wasn’t allowed in there and I walked right past him and told him I was just getting my wallet – which – was a lie.  I was literally going to steal my own car.  

Long story short, I shared some choice words with the manager and then immediately fell apart into a puddle of tears.  And guess what? My car wasn’t there.  It was at their other lot.  When we got to the other lot, I was met with what looked like an intercom.  I could hear the woman inside dealing with another customer as I pushed the button.

No answer.

I push it again.

No answer. 

My husband suggests that maybe the other lot had called and warned them that I was coming, which incensed me even more.  So I started pushing the button non stop. The woman finally responds out the door “I’m with a customer, I’ll be with you soon” and how did I respond?

Me: “THAT’S ALL YOU HAD TO F&%$ING SAY!”

Her: “Don’t you talk to me like that! Just for that, you’re gonna sit out there longer!”

I was already crying and now I’m sitting on the curb, in the fetal position, balling, as my family watched from the car.  “Longer” was just a couple minutes and then I was let in.  I apologized for cussing at her and she nearly cut me off and said “do not use that language again” or something to that effect, to which I replied “I just apologized.” 

I went on to explain that the reason I was so upset was because the last time I had my car towed was because I had been arrested for my second DUI and now 9 years later, it’s being towed from outside my house because of my service to another; never mind that I was breaking rules I never took the time to learn.  The woman seemed cold – she couldn’t care less.  I wanted her to join my pity party and she was declining my invite.

When we went to retrieve my wallet, I apologized again and she acknowledged that the button I pushed over and over looks like an intercom, so she understood why I felt like I was being ignored. 

But I still couldn’t really get myself together.  I was on the verge of tears the entire time.  When departing in the lot, I don’t remember what I said to her as I let the tears start rolling down my face again.  But I do remember what she said,

“It’s going to be okay. Just pray.”

My heart burst open.  I said “I love Jesus and I do pray.” 

And then we hugged. 

#morewillberevealed

My Recovery Restored

**This was originally posted August, 2020**

Disclaimer: I started this post just over a year ago. After reading what I started, I’ve decided to keep my original words and just add to it, as I’m feeling similar feelings today, except, for totally different reasons.


I am overwhelmed with feelings today. Lots of feelings ranging from extreme sadness to extreme gratitude.  The self-reflection that I have been doing is almost too much for me to handle.  At 7+ years sober (now 8+), I see so clearly now how what goes on in my head can debilitate me and why I drank for so long to escape all the extreme emotions.

At this stage in my recovery, I’m so happy and surprised at the same time. I no longer fight the desire to drink my feelings away.  I no longer fight the notion of “someday” recapturing the feeling of freedom alcohol gave me in social situations. I no longer carry the shame, guilt and remorse for the things that I did under the influence. That right there, is a miracle in and of itself. I never thought I’d say that and yet here I am.

I am by no means cured though.  Nope. I’m still fighting the battle of self and all the demons and character defects that were present long before alcohol was ever a part of my story. Check this shit out:

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The very last sentence at the bottom reads: I wish I could forget the frustrations aside.

Then on the other side, a final two sentences:

And think of the lives with the pain and sorrow. Then think of my troubles tomorrow.

I wrote that poem on August 30, 1995 – I was 15 years old.

And that was 25 years ago…today.

For old time’s sake, let’s take a moment and acknowledge the numbers 15 and 25. In Skeletons 1.1, I used my discarded shoes as metaphors to talk about “the story of my life before and after recovery” and how God was doing for me what I couldn’t do for myself to restore me to sanity. I mention my husband, whom I met at age 15. I got my first DUI at age 25; which was God’s third attempt at getting my attention with regards to my drinking. And THAT was 15 years ago.

What’s my point? My point is God has been involved the entire time, I just ignored Him. I ignored all the “signs” and got in my own way of living a life free of guilt, shame, remorse, worry and fear. Even after the alcohol was removed over 8 years ago, I still wanted to live my life MY way, do recovery MY way, do everything MY way and thought I could fix my problems MY way.

Humilty, my friends, I needed to be humbled. Even at 15 years old, I was convicted, but it took 25 years for me to really humble myself the way God wanted me to – to smash my ego and humble myself to see His true will for my life.

So much changed since I started this blog almost 3 years ago, but the most change has happened in the past 3 months. I’m not going to talk about that just yet and want to circle back to how my feelings today mirror those that I was feeling last year but for different reasons.

Last year, I was feeling tremendous gratitude for my life and how far I had come in recovery. Life was good! But life wasn’t good for others and I was greatly saddened. A dear friend’s sister (who was also my friend but we weren’t close) had just suddenly died from addiction. Another friend was “on the run,” unable to see her children and fighting major demons. I was seeing alcoholism wreak havoc in the marriage of another couple who I love, and watching another friend continue to sabotage his life with booze. My heart was hurting.

One year later, my heart is still hurting. Our country has been turned upside down with a global pandemic that has taken the lives of hundreds of thousands and upended the lives of millions. Our “new normal” has brought about extreme stress, fear and uncertainty. Racism and police brutality has been brought to the forefront, resulting in mass protests and riots, turning people against each other. Humans are acting like wild, untamed animals. Politics, I’ve never been a fan but what’s going on right now is just an utter shit show and has caused me to lose trust in our democracy. I could go on and on but you know, you’ve had a front row seat as well.

Yet, life is still good. In fact, life is better today than it was a year ago.

How is that? How can I say that my life is better now than it was a year ago when you consider what’s been going on this year?

I can sum it all up in 3 words and 1 acronym:

Good.

Orderly.

Direction.

GOD.

3 in 1: Father, Son and Holy Spirit.

I have been restored.

#morewillberevealed

My Recovery Rock Bottom – Part 4

When I first quit drinking 8 years ago, it wasn’t by choice.  I was an alcoholic who knew deep down I could never drink again but I refused to accept it. I did not want to be done for good and therefore, wanted to protect my right to drink by not being honest about how bad my drinking really had gotten.  I remember another sober woman telling me early on that the reason I was refusing to admit my alcoholism to anyone else was because once I did, it closed the door on ever drinking with whoever I told the truth to.  And she was right.

I wasn’t even a month sober when I found out I was pregnant. By the grace of God, I was finally going to become a mom and now had a perfect excuse to not drink.  Staying sober was easy and hiding my alcoholism even easier.

In early recovery, social gatherings were my main trigger.  After my daughter was born, I had breastfeeding as an excuse but now, staying sober wasn’t as easy. I’ll never forget a business dinner my husband I attended.  We toured our host’s wine cellar and then went to dinner where the wine never stopped.  I was “white knuckling it” the entire time.  Upon departing for the evening, the host insisted we return after I was done breastfeeding so I could enjoy their collection. It took everything in me not to cry right then and there – so I waited until we got in the car and let the tears flow immediately.

Self-pity was my favorite.

Fast forward 7 years later and I no longer fight the anxiety of being the only one not drinking and being asked why.  But I do still fight the triggers on the rare occasion and it’s usually because I am restless, irritable or discontent.  Last weekend we attended a lunch at a winery.  I had been to wineries in the past – sober and pregnant.  But I had never been wine tasting at a winery and I always wished I had.  Isn’t that funny?  But I digress.

Tensions ran high with my daughter as we prepared to leave for this lunch and on the way there, I decided: I’m gonna drink today.  That thought was immediately followed by “no you’re not” and then from there I proceeded to judge myself for even considering such a terrible idea at almost 8 years sober from alcohol.

The longer we were there, the less I wanted to drink but the more annoyed that I was still somewhere I no longer wanted to be.  The person next to me was drinking and when he was asked by the server if he wanted water, he responded with “I’m allergic.”  I laughed out loud and he looked at me with a dead pan face.

“Wait, really? You’re allergic to water? How is that?” I said.

He proceeded to explain to me that water tastes like shit and he refuses to drink it.

5 minutes later, my impatience for our food to arrive took over and he turns to me and says,

“Just chill, have a drink.”

I look at him and say “yeah, no, I’m allergic.”

I get the same dead pan expression staring back at me and then he says “really?”

“Yep, when I drink, I break out in poor judgement, make bad decisions and end up in handcuffs.”

I can’t tell you what his response was.  Did he laugh? Probably and that was my intent. But more importantly, two things happened after that: One, I planted a seed.  And two, any remaining ounce of desire to drink was immediately removed.

That is my intent for living my recovery out loud and proud. By sharing my truth and being honest, I’m planting seeds in the minds of other potential alcoholics and by doing so, I’m protecting my need to stay sober. 

#morewillberevealed

My Recovery Rock Bottom – Part 3

“You wouldn’t know, you’re not a mother.”

My friend was right.  She was a mom in the depths of toddler hell and I was childless.

What you don’t know is, I had suffered a miscarriage less than 6 months prior and was actively trying to get pregnant again – I wanted to be a mother more than anything.

But she did know.  She knew that and she uttered those hurtful words anyway because she was struggling with something I knew nothing about. Which is funny because, I ALSO was struggling with something she knew nothing about. She didn’t have to “try” for a baby and she never knew what it was like to lose one either.

I called my husband on my way to work to invite him to my daily pity party of 1:

“Can you believe she’d say that?” (waaaah waaaah) “She KNOWS how bad I want a baby!” (waaaaaaaaah)

I had already polished off the wine from the night before.

“Have you been drinking?” he asked

Of course I lied. I lied all the time about my drinking. But everyone close to me knew I was an alcoholic. Down deep, even I knew, but I was drowning in a sea of denial at the same time. Less than 6 months later, I got my second DUI on my 32nd birthday. 2 days later, my husband told me he thought it best to wait 6 months to get pregnant. Devastation is an understatement. I wanted to get hammered but instead, cried myself to sleep because it had been decided for me that I was done drinking. Sure, I could have drank but I did not want to deal with the consequences…not that weekend, anyway.

I went on to relapse a handful of times over the next two months and for some reason, my husband changed his mind on baby making.  I picked up a sponsor to make everyone think I was serious about sobriety (cuz I wasn’t) and she highly suggested I wait a year to get pregnant.

What do you think this dry drunk girl did?

1 month later, I saw 2 lines and it wouldn’t be too long until I would experience the challenges that come with ages 0-5 that my friend was lamenting about just before she dropped that insensitive statement on me.

Do I regret getting pregnant in my first year of recovery? Of course not!  God did for me what I could not do for myself.  I’m convinced that had I not gotten pregnant, I would have drank again and again; causing more wreckage along the way. That being said, I’m also positive that had I put more effort into my recovery that first year, I would have been better equipped with tools to handle life when it got harder after we brought home baby #2.

Because being a mother is hard AF. I cannot imagine doing it drunk.

Being a mother (with alcoholism) without a complete reliance on a Higher Power proved to be unbearable. For me anyway. Hence the name of this series – My Recovery Rock Bottom.

#morewillberevealed

My Recovery Rock Bottom -Part 2

This is 1 of a 5 part series. Some have been password protected.


I was moving up the ranks in my drinking career when my besties started having babies.  While they navigated through raising little humans, I was raising hell on my path of self-destruction.  When they complained about the woes of motherhood and nursing babies to sleep, I was nursing hangovers and complained about who wasn’t living up to my expectations.

One time my friend told me she fantasized walking into her backyard, hopping the fence and running away to start a new life because hers as a working mother (and wife too!) was just too hard.  I didn’t get it.

Like, at all. 

Then, I got sober and had children of my own; and then I got it.

I got it so hard.

2 years ago, I hit another bottom and it was way worse than my last when I was drinking. My daughters were 5 and 3. My life, as I knew it, did not look like I thought it would almost 6 years in recovery. I was unhappy with every single aspect of my life and was desperate for change. I remember driving to work one day and screaming at the top of my lungs to God “HELP MEEEEEEE!! I CAN’T DO THIS!!!!”

I cried a lot. Every. Single. Day. I lost my temper with my daughters constantly and took it out on my husband too.  Our marriage was falling apart right before my eyes and he was oblivious. Which made me feel even more crazy.  How could he not see, I wondered? I was picking fights left and right, with him and my coworker. 

It felt so strangely familiar to how I felt when I was drinking so I didn’t understand – how could I feel this way again and I’m still dry AF?  It didn’t take long for me to realize that I was not in recovery at all because had I been doing the things I was taught to do when I first got sober, I wouldn’t feel so helpless, alone and out of control. 

Instead, I was going at it alone. I was without a sponsor and had a very small circle of sober friends.  I wasn’t going to meetings and I wasn’t being of service in any way, shape or form. As you already know, I also had gotten myself addicted to Adderall but that’s neither here nor there; that only made my bottom worse.  Most importantly though, I wasn’t praying.

I knew right then and there that if I didn’t take charge of my situation, I was going to drink.  I didn’t believe it when my peers talked about the “relapse before the relapse” but I still listened to what they said to do when that happens and I started praying.  I went back to meetings and I started reaching out.

Next thing I knew, I had a sponsor who accepted me and my choices in recovery (that was a miracle!) and was discovering new recovery communities I didn’t know existed outside of the little AA bubble I had put myself in.  I seamlessly quit Adderall without any help and managed to close out 2018 with a new lease on life.

At 8 years AF, my emotional rock bottom taught me that I still have a lot of growth to do and it has nothing to do with staying sober and everything to do with me and how I show up as a human being.  It became abundantly clear that as long as I remain aware of the following 5 lessons I learned from my emotional rock bottom, I’ll never have to go through one again:

  1. I’m not just an alcoholic, I’m also an addict and I still have some addictions to overcome. As long as they aren’t booze and Adderall, I’m going to be just fine.   
  2. I am not alone and there are always people out there suffering way more than me. The more I give a shit about other people, the less I focus on myself, the better I feel. Selfless acts of service do a soul good.
  3. Recovery is so much more than just not drinking or using; I need a program of action to stay somewhat sane. I’ve been taught the tools and it’s my responsibility whether I choose to use them or not. 
  4. I need a community of like-minded people in my corner – and I have chosen the Fellowship of AA. But I’m not here to promote AA, just sharing what works for me.
  5. I need a Higher Power – and mine is God. The Creator of the Universe, the Master of All Things, God the Father, Son and Holy Spirit – as long as I turn my will over to Him every day to the best of my ability, I’m good. It’s when I let up on my spiritual connection when things start to go sideways.

I’m grateful for my bottom because it brought me back to the path I never wanted and now never want to get off. It’s been a very transformative 2 years and I’m in a much better place today.  But I’m not done. No way – I’ll never be done. Recovery is a journey, not a destination.  There’s still work to be done on myself and people to help along the way. I cannot wait to see what the next decade brings.

#morewillberevealed

A Rebel is Reveling in the Change (of her Closet)

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The “She Shed”…

Have you watched the show “Tidying Up” on Netflix yet? It’s a reality show with tidying expert, Marie Kondo, helping families and couples “purge” their homes of any and all things that do not bring them joy. When all is said and done, her clients have developed new habits in maintaining tidy, functioning living spaces AND have reignited joy, happiness and harmony in their homes.

For me, finding this show was a game-changer.  Because, see, I am more or less a fucking slob.

That’s right. I am.

That’s not self-deprecating language either, it’s the truth. I’m not even going to try to blame “part-time working motherhood” because the fact of the matter is, I’ve been this way my entire life.  I have always played “catch up” with the messes I have created for myself to clean up.

The worse my house gets, the more daunting the task of tidying becomes.  I find myself paralyzed, not knowing where to begin; cursing myself for even allowing it to get so bad. Beating myself up for not “maintaining” like I said I would do.

When that negative self-talk takes my mind hostage, I accomplish nothing and the house gets worse. It reaches a point where I cannot take another day living in such chaos, so what do I do? I attack and I attack HARD. I’ll spend the entire day putting my house “back together” and feel a massive weight lifted.

Until it goes to shit again and I’m back to where I started.

Disaster → Fix → Relax → Repeat.

Since obtaining valuable tips and tools from the show, my home has become more manageable. However, with young kids in the house, I gotta stay on top of it. I MUST implement daily tasks to keep my home from “falling apart.”

And THAT my friends, is the story of my life when it comes to treating my alcoholism. While I haven’t drank in (ALMOST) 7 years almost 9 years, I’m still an alcoholic. I always will be.

I no longer have a drinking problem but I will always have a thinking problem and thinking problem can make or break my day. Every.Single.Day.

Just like my home, if I get complacent on my spiritual program of action, things go down for me real quick.  I don’t drink but I engage in other thinking and behavioral problems that make life…well…unmanageable.

If you’ve been reading for a while, you’ll know that this blog was conceived in my closet and that my closet represents my life as a dry drunk and alcoholic in recovery. I have spent the past year and 3 months transforming both : purging, organizing, and holding onto things that I am not ready to let go of yet – in my closet and in my recovery.

In Skeletons Part 1, I talk about what my drinking and recovery was like before deciding to take my life back.

In Skeletons Part 2, I talk about what happened to land me in the rooms of AA and my desire for change in recovery.

I was 4 months shy of 6 years without a drink when this blog was born and a LOT has gone down – leaps of faith, secrets revealed, therapy and lots of “getting honest with myself.”  And here we are now in Skeletons Part 3: What (by God’s Grace) it’s Like Now.

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And let me tell you…

…I LOVE the changes so far.

But there is still work to be done. There will always be work to be done.

Recovery is a lifelong journey that I am so grateful to have finally embraced: striving to be a better human being than I was the day before.

One.

Day.

At.

A.

Time.

#morewillberevealed

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 My “Cloffice”

Ps.  My “Cloffice” is being “remodeled” again!  3 years since this blog was born and I’m still working in my closet.  I can’t wait to show you!

Skeletons 3.5 – My Recovery Relapse Series

Relapse (past & present:) “We’re only as sick as our secrets.” – AA slogan.

I haven’t been honest with you guys.

I mean, I have, but…not totally honest.

Remember how I said there are things I know I have to talk about and I don’t want to?

Well, I guess you can say I’ve been hiding behind this secret and allowing it to excuse me from writing for the past 2+ months.

I have wanted to move out of the past and write about the present but uhhhh, I haven’t been doing that now, have I? So clearly I need to still talk about some past shit in order to move on.

That’s how working a spiritual program of action works. And when I’m not doing it to the best of my ability, life is just harder. I can’t explain how that is and I’m digressing anyway so let’s just put a pin in that for now.

Back to my BBS that I have been harboring; recent events have made it abundantly clear that I cannot hang onto this part of my story anymore and if I continue to ignore my instincts, I will remain stuck in my recovery and I don’t want that.

So here it is: towards the end of 2018, I determined that not only am I an alcoholic but I am also a straight up addict.

Cigarettes, alcohol, weed, sugar, pills, & caffeine – I have abused them all at various points in my life and it’s time I write about it and make some serious changes while I’m at it.

Kicking this series off is the cigs because I’m ashamed to admit that after promising my 6 year old daughter that I would quit smoking back in May, I still am puffing them down and I can’t fucking stand it anymore.

Pause, you guys, I just went to look at when I last posted. It was May 22nd. The last “quit date” I set for myself and here I am about to set another one. Weird. Anyway…

I swore up and down I’d quit smoking before my daughters would ever know I smoked and yet here we are, her little voice yelling at me from the screen door for all the neighbors to hear: “MOMMY! STOP SMOKING!”

Me: (whisper yelling) oh my gosh…get inside…oh my gosh (closes door)

(walks away)

(door opens again)

A1: MOMMY! NO SMOKING!”

Can we say mortified?

I’ve made countless vain attempts in quitting.  I’ve made a gazillion promises to friends and loved ones, solemn oaths and public social media announcements.  I’ve quit smoking WAY more times than I quit drinking. Just like any relapse, I was immediately hooked after the first cigarette.  It has been, by far, the hardest addiction to crush.

I remember my first sponsor telling me she used the 12 steps to quit smoking, so…that’s what I’m going to do.

Seriously. I am.

I know you don’t believe me.

I wouldn’t either.

But mark my mother effing words: I. WILL. QUIT. SMOKING. CIGARETTES!

Tomorrow is Day 1, Step 1.

#morewillberevealed

Ps. This was posted a good long while ago.  You should follow this blog so you can find out how I did.

Skeletons 3.1 – My Recovery Reborn

Reborn (present): “We are going to know a new freedom and a new happiness.” The Promises of AA (BB, pg 83-84)

In Skeletons 1.3, I mentioned giving a speech at my high school graduation and this is what I said about it:

“I spewed a bunch of nonsense. I knew exactly what they wanted to hear and I gave it to them. Knocked that fucker out of the park. “

For my birthday this year, my in-laws had a mini “viewing party” for my husband, kids and I.  Upon plopping on the couch, tv still off, I somehow knew what it was we were about to watch: excerpts from our high school graduation video. And I was right! Upon watching myself at 18 years old, I was hit with 2 realizations:

  1. My speech was NOT as good as I had remembered and
  2. My anxiety was grossly apparent and that further proves why sharing in meetings has always been a challenge for me.

“…and as we celebrate tonight, we must remember to glorify him in everything we do.”

Lip service, that’s what that was.  I knew what they wanted to hear but my delivery was cringe worthy; not only that but I did the exact opposite of glorifying God in everything that I did that night.*

Let me remind you that I was giving this speech as STUDENT BODY PRESIDENT. Not the president of my class. The president of the ASSOCIATED STUDENT BODY, people!

Let me also remind you that I became ASB President by default, I was not voted in.  I was voted into the ASB as the secretary, NOT ASB President. But then something crazy happened that led to some “impeachments” and yours truly automatically took the seat**; if you recall, I was not party to the scandal I mentioned in Skeletons 1.3. because my friends were worried I would ruin it for everyone. Fair enough.

Fast forward 15 years later to March, 2013.

I was up in front of a room full of women accepting my 1 year token.  I have no idea what I said except for this big fat lie:

“The promises really have come true for me.”

I didn’t even know what the promises really meant, I had no idea what I was saying, and I stumbled over every single word I thought they wanted to hear.  And that’s how it went every single time I accepted a token thereafter, up until year #5, the last token I “took” (as we say in the rooms.)

Fast forward 2 years later and I’m not like that today.

Today, I say what I mean and I mean what I say.

Today, I do what I say I’m going to do…for the most part…and when I don’t, the only person I am letting down is myself.

Today, I still get super nervous sharing but I’m a little bit calmer and self-confident.

Today, I care more about how my share will impact the newcomer and not what others are going to think about me.

Today, I do know a new freedom and a new happiness.

That’s what faith does.

That’s what trust does.

That’s what love does.

Thank you, S3 – you know who you are.

And thank you, HP! To God be all the glory.

#morewillberevealed