The topic at my AA meeting last night was "Relapse." A new woman showed up, and told the tale of her several months of glorious sobriety, all crushed last week when she tied one on at a local concert. Everyone at the table except me & Bill & Lisa have been through the morning-after-you-wrecked-your-life. Though I have more than two decades in the program, I recognize that I am only one drink away from the wreck. What I ponder, when the topic is "Relapse," is what will cause me to lift that glass and take that drink? You know what they say: it ain't the first one that kills you, but it's the first one that makes you forget what you know.
My son was mugged yesterday, in the big city where he lives. He reported that the cops told him he handled it just right. A little joke, and hand over the Ipod and wallet. He did all the follow-up with the bank and the insurance and the school ID office. I suggested to him that he has now experienced VULNERABILITY, and that's probably a good thing, since the world is imploding around us and desperate people roam the streets. Charity is a great thing, if it's voluntary. Desperate people have nothing to lose. He's a statistic now. The issue is the vulnerability. I consider vulnerability to be one of the horrors in life. I like to be in control! The idea that a madman with a gun (or a banana- who thinks clearly at that moment?) can take my control and make me vulnerable, is a horror. I'm reading The Potent Spell about the horrors that mothers live with -- our children, their very existence, makes us vulnerable to several horrors. My children are grown, so that means I've missed several of the horrors. Now they fly out of the nest into their own lives -- and there is a long list of horrors I get to NOT think about now.
For good or ill, I tend to avoid thinking about horrors. It just makes them bigger, I rationalize. But what not thinking about them really does is protect my illusion of being in control and invulnerable. I wrote in an earlier posting about my recent breast lumpectomy. My brother responded: "You never mentioned it, but this must have been a a major moment in life when mortality passes by the window, blurred but pronounced. A glimpse. Frightening, inscrutable, and lordly. Like a monolith." And he's right, I didn't tell anyone except the Hubby, who had to get up with me at 5:00 AM and drive me to the hospital. Not thinking about the outcome, not even entertaining in conversation or writing that the outcome might be really scary -- this was a way to stay in control. "Don't borrow trouble" is an old saying; "Tomorrow comes soon enough." If the biopsy results had been bad... well, then we talk about it. Then we deal with it. Then we feel the emotions. Until then, I'll just block it all out, take one day (or one minute) at a time, and stay busy with the things that give me joy, strength, and peace (today's do-list: pickles, move the compost bin, haul the old National Geographics to the dump, iron my white shirts, grade some Sociology quizzes....). Tomorrow's list isn't yet made.
My son was mugged yesterday, in the big city where he lives. He reported that the cops told him he handled it just right. A little joke, and hand over the Ipod and wallet. He did all the follow-up with the bank and the insurance and the school ID office. I suggested to him that he has now experienced VULNERABILITY, and that's probably a good thing, since the world is imploding around us and desperate people roam the streets. Charity is a great thing, if it's voluntary. Desperate people have nothing to lose. He's a statistic now. The issue is the vulnerability. I consider vulnerability to be one of the horrors in life. I like to be in control! The idea that a madman with a gun (or a banana- who thinks clearly at that moment?) can take my control and make me vulnerable, is a horror. I'm reading The Potent Spell about the horrors that mothers live with -- our children, their very existence, makes us vulnerable to several horrors. My children are grown, so that means I've missed several of the horrors. Now they fly out of the nest into their own lives -- and there is a long list of horrors I get to NOT think about now.
For good or ill, I tend to avoid thinking about horrors. It just makes them bigger, I rationalize. But what not thinking about them really does is protect my illusion of being in control and invulnerable. I wrote in an earlier posting about my recent breast lumpectomy. My brother responded: "You never mentioned it, but this must have been a a major moment in life when mortality passes by the window, blurred but pronounced. A glimpse. Frightening, inscrutable, and lordly. Like a monolith." And he's right, I didn't tell anyone except the Hubby, who had to get up with me at 5:00 AM and drive me to the hospital. Not thinking about the outcome, not even entertaining in conversation or writing that the outcome might be really scary -- this was a way to stay in control. "Don't borrow trouble" is an old saying; "Tomorrow comes soon enough." If the biopsy results had been bad... well, then we talk about it. Then we deal with it. Then we feel the emotions. Until then, I'll just block it all out, take one day (or one minute) at a time, and stay busy with the things that give me joy, strength, and peace (today's do-list: pickles, move the compost bin, haul the old National Geographics to the dump, iron my white shirts, grade some Sociology quizzes....). Tomorrow's list isn't yet made.
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