I Got to Join the Atheist Blogroll

How cool is that?

Being an atheist in recovery is kind of lonely, and it’s one of the reasons I decided to take the plunge and start this blog. Of the few atheists who make it into the rooms in the first place, either by court order or because they’re so miserable they’re willing to try anything, few of them make it past step two. No matter how you spin it, Higher Power sounds like a euphemism for a magical godot in the sky. And telling an atheist they have to believe in that some higher power is going to keep them sober if they just believe just isn’t helpful.

There are those in the rooms who came in as atheists and through a spiritual awakening, found Jesus and are truly happy they’ve had that experience. But that would be kind of like me explaining to you how happy I am now that I’ve gone through my partial lobotomy. You’re probably not going to want what I have.

I was a bit nervous when I asked to join the Atheist Blogroll because a fair number of atheists look down on 12-step programs. Some of those folks think I’m a moron for participating in what they see as a cultish religious service. I wish I could say that doesn’t bother me, but it does. Luckily, it doesn’t often come up. Every once in awhile, someone will ask a direct question – a friend refuses rehab because they don’t want all the religious shit but the family is at their wits end – and I poke my head out of the closet and give my two cents.

That I’m atheist comes up more often in recovery forums. I’ve earned my chair in the meetings I attend and I’m clear about my complete disbelief in any kind of deity, especially if there’s a newcomer on the off chance they’re an atheist too. I’ve been asked to explain how I’m able to work a recovery program and be an atheist at the same time – not as a precursor to argument or debate – just because people are curious. One person asked if I would write down how it works for me because there was an atheist seeking help at his local meeting and the members of the meeting wanted to help him.

There are many other people who truly enjoy debating this particular topic. I’d rather get a root canal. If you believe in God, Jesus, an afterlife, you certainly don’t need my permission or agreement. I don’t believe in any of those things. I’m sober (not dry) and enjoying my recovery. Life is good.

Mothers Who Think

What ever happened to Mothers Who Think at salon.com? Back when I was breastfeeding, using cloth diapers with natural wool wraps, and putting soft leather shoes on my little ones. I was reading books like Better Late Than Early, by the Moores; Multiple Intelligences, by Harold Gardner; re-reading John Holt and Hiam Ginott and discovering Ginott’s protoges, Adele Faber and Elaine Mazlish. Is there a parent out there who hasn’t read Faber and Mazlish? Spend the $10 or $15 at amazon.com and buy their book. Keep it in the bathroom so you can consistently review the concepts – they’re in cartoon format, how easy is that! In a few weeks you’ll be emailing me with profound gratitude!

So it was at this time in my life when I discovered salon.com. Most of what I read there was for the birds. I’m not exactly liberal in my political views, when I bother to have political views (I really pissed off a professor once just by being the only person in the class who listened to Limbaugh. I should have kept my hand down when he asked. The whole rest of the semester that asshole tried to make me out to be the Conservative Apologist. That was the same class where I asked the young woman who sat next to me if she’d like to hook up sometime to study. She looked at me like she had a hair ball in her throat and gagged out, “Um. No.” It seems that the terminology had changed in the past 10 years and hooking up no longer has anything to do with coffee. My children just howled when they heard this one!

Anyway. Back to salon.com. It was there I first heard of Anne Lamott. I bought her book and felt an immediate connection with her story. Which is kind of funny when I think of it now. (Because back then I was a healthy, happy, normal person whose live was quite manageable, thank you very much.) When I read something that touches me, it’s a good feeling to buy the book. I imagine that small portion of my payment finding its way into the author’s pocket as a personal thank you. Thank you for taking the time to write. Thank you for taking the risk to publish so I can read what you’ve written. I really don’t get that whole concept of trying to download music for free. Read Frederick. Artists are necessary for our survival. And yeah, I think they should get a bigger percentage of the take, but publishers have to eat too. Here’s a happy thought: The Internet really is going to change that part of the book-production scene. Just look at John T. Reed’s website if you need convincing. (His books are worth the money too, but I wish he’d pay a graphic designer to improve the layout.)

I still get the newsletter from salon.com and one of the links looked interesting. The article was entitled, The Parent Trap and there was a cute little graphic, so I clicked. And the article wasn’t bad. But, damn it! I miss Mothers Who Think. Surely there are a few of us around. In that whole article, there wasn’t a single mention of wool diaper covers. Surely I’m not the only Limbaugh listening, Mothering Magazine reading, rainbow diaper using, atheist sexaholic in recovery out there. Where did all the mothers who think go? I’m finding a quite few of them in the blogosphere and I think we should all get together and start a Mothers Who Think Blogroll with Frederick as the mascot.

Staying on Track

It’s difficult to stay on the gentle path. Lust hits are everywhere and sometimes they send you reeling before you have your defenses marshaled.

I think many women would agree that finding the right bra is almost as difficult as finding a pair of jeans that fit. Unfortunately for me, trying on bras is still a bit of an iffy proposition, thanks to Fr. M the wonder therapist sharing his leather fetish with me. Toward the end of my therapy with him, I was buying leather underwear, visiting leather shops, getting help and advice from the shop owners. Ugh. Since those memories still come with a fair amount of shame and nausea that combines nicely with all the normal angst of standing in front of a dressing room mirror, I avoid trying on bras. The style that fits me is, unfortunately, only found at Victoria’s Secrets. That’s not an easy place for someone like me to shop. For a long time, I would feel sick just walking past the store. It’s much better now. I can go in, select what I need, pay and leave almost like a “normal” person. Since I know it’s going to be difficult, I make sure I’m not Hungry, Angry, Lonely, or Tired. I acknowledge my feelings: pride in how far I’ve progressed in my recovery; anger and sadness at how badly I was hurt and how I colluded in my own abuse.

But what about those hits that seem to come out of the blue? In the Big Book there’s a line that says something to the effect that sooner or later there will come a time when we have no defense against taking that first drink. Only a higher power can save you then. Well, I don’t believe there’s any magic HP in the sky who’s going to tap me with his magic sobriety wand. What I do believe is that there are times when I’m going to lose my sobriety if I don’t maintain my recovery.

Scientists hooked people up to a PET scanner and discovered that we actually decide to move a finger before we’re consciously aware we’ve decided. Maybe this is what’s happening in that defenseless moment. I don’t know. What I do know is that I’ve been on the Internet on the verge of taking that first sip before it clicks that I’m getting ready to step off the gentle path and and back onto the insane highway of active addiction. It’s most definitely a deer in the headlights phenomenon. And so far, I have had the presence of mind to get the hell out of danger. As the Big Book says, I “recoil as if from a hot flame.”

I believe that has happened because I’ve worked hard to acquire new coping skills and I’ve practiced them enough that they’re becoming habitual. At least they’re consciously habitual, whereas my compulsive addictive behaviors are unconsciously habitual. So a combination of making sure I’m as protected as possible by saying my affirmations, staying aware of H.A.L.T, using the PCI, etc. I maintain relationships with people who know my story and will give me honest feedback about how I’m doing.

All written down, maybe it seems like I have to spend an inordinate amount of time on recovery stuff. And at first it seemed that way to me too, but it’s really not that bad. I certainly don’t spend nearly the same amount of time on recovery that I did on addictive behaviors. It’s like flossing your teeth. When you first start, your gums will bleed. You’ll forget. Sometimes you’ll haul yourself out of bed and sometimes you’ll just resolve to do better tomorrow. But on the whole, flossing is a good thing and after you acquire the habit, it’s not going to take so much time and energy to remember. And your gums won’t bleed any more.

So for a quick recap:
1. Staying in recovery takes conscious effort.
2. You can prepare for some difficult situations before they occur.
3. Others seem to whack you right between the eyes.
4. At those times, your conscious effort will afford you just enough space to get out of immediate danger.

In a later post I’ll explore how those “out of the blue” hits indicate either an unrecognized stressor or a lax program.

Betrayal Bonds

I was reading an editorial in the paper today about how the young woman who prostituted herself to Spitzer looks like a well adjusted consenting adult. And the problem with that is that it makes it easy for us to forget that most prostitutes are terribly abused and in nearly inescapable betrayal bonds with their pimps.

This is not a good profession for girls and women, period. Even this seemingly well adjusted, happy young woman is not as happy as she seems. Normally I’d preface that statement with a “probably” or a “maybe.” But I’m 100% certain that she is not as joyous as she seems.

There are all kinds of sexual mistakes well adjusted adults make. Having sex with someone and later wishing we hadn’t probably tops the list. Doing something sexual and later wishing we hadn’t, like using a position that just doesn’t work for us. A game that leaves us feeling a little icky, or we maybe got hurt. But well adjusted adults do not prostitute themselves.

The Pretty Woman myth is such complete and utter bullshit I have to wonder at our motivation for continuing it. We tell ourselves that if she wants to make money on her back, well, so what? That’s her choice. And as long as it’s her choice, we can continue to pretend that it’s just a business transaction.

But deep down, we know that’s a lie. When you have sex with a prostitute, you’re abusing her. Paying for it doesn’t change that. You’re just another face in a long string that extends back to that person’s childhood. Another man who only values her as a object of lust; a sperm receptacle.

And what the hell? Everyone knows this. There’s a giant hole in our thinking here. The little girl or boy that a few years ago you would have felt so sorry for, now that he or she is older, it’s okay.

Old teddybear
Originally uploaded by zakwitnij

Thoughts on Easter

Like many people who have been abused by a member of the clergy, my husband and I have lost our faith and since it’s Easter, I feel a little sad about that. We’ve always leaned toward the rational and the scientific, so there’s a very good chance this would have happened anyway, but being betrayed by the Church certainly sped things along.

So we’re developing new traditions for the holidays. With no little ones in the house and snow on the ground, we’ve decided not to hide eggs. And we’re taking the opportunity to cut back on candy too. Dinner will be the same menu; ham, scalloped potatoes, and asparagus. After dinner, we’ll vote on a movie and relax together. I think next year I may put up an Easter-egg tree. Decorating eggs is always fun and the kids are old enough now that we can do the fancy pysanki eggs and the paper-mache birds’ nests. They’re especially beautiful if you use a forsythia branch. Bring it in the house a few days early to force the blooms.

Would I go back and regain that lost faith? No. I like the way things are now. We’re watching Beowulf and enjoying our day. Life is good!

A Flash Poem

I love this poem, The Flesh of a Mango.

Sometimes it gives me vertigo to think that in a relatively short period of time single celled organisms have organized sufficiently to form us. And how cool that we’re aware of that!

The Karpman Triangle

I’m an addict, which makes me the most visible part of a sick family system. Someone could look at my acting out behaviors and say omg, how awful, stupid, gross, or whatever. That same person would look at my husband’s insane work schedule and be impressed. But he’s every bit as sick as I am. And that was a shock for me to consider. I have always though that my husband is a truly good person and that he never deserved to be saddled with a wretch like me. I’d admired him and despised myself, a perspective that’s fully supported by our culture.

The truth is, my husband is every bit as sick as I am. This is something we addicts struggle to accept because it interferes with one of our core beliefs: that we are bad. It also supports egocentrism because we believe that we have the power to fix our relationships by becoming good.

Personal Craziness Index

I made a spreadsheet for my PCI and thought I’d share it here. It’s a great recovery tool but I can’t seem to stick with it. I’ll go along just fine for a few weeks and then start forgetting. What I need to do is tape the darn thing to the bathroom mirror. If your PCI is high, that’s not good. Your life is out of balance and your recovery is in danger. Low craziness = good recovery. The way it works is you list a few things in each category that are danger signs. I like to phrase mine positively. For example, under transportation, I have keeping the car clean and getting gas before the little light goes off. But you could have dirty car, and letting the gas get too low. Under physical health, I have eating on time, exercising, and flossing. After making your list, pick the seven things most vital to you and write them down.If I skip a meal, my PCI goes up a bit. To show this, I give myself a point for that item at the end of the day. Add up the points and that’s the day’s score. Low scores are good. If you forget to do your PCI, it’s an automatic seven.If you’re an addict, you really should buy Facing the Shadow, 2nd Edition by Patrick Carnes. It’s definitely well worth $20 plus shipping.

I’ve Had Three Good Therapists

This photo seemed apropos. That’s me. Headed up, toward the light, eyes wide open, smiling, swimming with my defensive spines down. I can’t figure if my therapist would be pushing me up or coaxing forward. Probably he’s swimming alongside.

I’ve had three wonderful therapists and one not so wonderful therapist. Around 13 years ago I was at a crossroads of sorts, but there seemed to be more to it than that. I was unhappier than I thought I should have been, given my circumstances. So I turned to a therapist for help. I interviewed three and chose the one who listened. He didn’t insist that my husband was my problem. The other two were women. Each believed that I was unhappy because I was trapped at home with the kids by an overbearing husband. When I said that I loved what I was doing and that my husband just wanted me to be happy, they said I was in denial and that we would work on that. Just the idea of working with a woman made my skin crawl a little bit, so it ended up being a good choice.

It took about a year for me to deal with a lot of difficult issues but at the end, my self-esteem had improved dramatically. I developed a good relationship with my therapist and we tackled some difficult issues together. I experienced a lot of healing and growth.It wasn’t all peaches and cream of course. I remember getting angry (very angry) when he suggested that being abused as a child had an affect on me as an adult. I told him (screamed at him) that I’d never been abused, never been beaten never been burned with cigarettes. The whole top floor of the building must have heard me. I wasn’t abused! Sheesh! I didn’t understand why he couldn’t get that into his stupid therapist’s brain.

Science vs. Wisdom in Recovery

I bought Julia Sweeny’s cd of her show, Letting Go of God. Her story is different from mine, but just like the stories in a 12-step meeting, there were things that I could really relate to. Having to say good-bye all over again to the people I loved that have died. I didn’t have the words for this grief (and fear) before listening to her monologue. It sounds like her path to atheism was similar to mine in that it wasn’t easy; definitely not a flip decision. Like Julia, I was trying hard to find God and this is not the way I had hoped things would turn out. Surrendering to this has been difficult and I get so frustrated when people assume that I just “decided” to turn my back on God’s love and Christ’s redemption. That’s not the way it was.

Since I’m in recovery, I also get grief from atheists who believe that 12-step programs require belief in a supernatural higher power. My assertion is to them is that I’m an atheist and that in recovery you turn your brain on not off. You stop living according to your own version of reality and start conforming to (how do I say this?) the real reality. But for an atheist coming into a 12-step meeting, all the god-talk sounds whacked. It probably doesn’t sound all that great to people who’ve been traumatized by religion either.

But the thing is, I have had a spiritual awakening to atheism. And that’s made trudging this part of the path more difficult than it was when I was a believer. It’s lonely.