LIFE AND DEATH IN THE LBC

I was walking around work last week and something strange kept happening.  All of the muzak that was playing seemed to be an eerie exit soundtrack.  I’ve had weirdly premonition feelings before and they usually pan out to be true.  The thing is I don’t ever know what they mean.  All I know is that:  CHANGE.  Someone asked me last night what I will do after my current job ends.  I smiled and said, I don’t know!

I got my fill of rain this past weekend.  I STILL wouldn’t mind a whole bunch more.  Today I made pancakes while it rained.  For me life doesn’t get any better than that.  The weather makes me think about fall, the holidays, and Christmas.  H was just a pip squeak of a baby last Christmas, his first Christmas:

Much has changed.  I remember going back to work two and a half months after he was born.  He woke three or four times a night.  Work was fast paced and I was so, so tired.  It was so hard to get to meetings.  Not feeling a part of made it worse.  My higher power, my parents and my sponsor anchored me.  Every day I wished for a good night’s sleep so I could get my bearings.  It never came and I still found them.

I went out last night to dinner and a meeting with some friends.  To be among adults, to car pool and not have to drive, to feel a part of was so fulfilling, like rain after a long sunny summer.

I recently learned via Facebook that a sponsee I used to have back in the LBC died of a heroin overdose.  Someone remarked that they have become numb to such news.  It’s a valid point, if you’re in recovery long enough, you see people die.  If you are always hanging around a bunch of ex-drinkers and ex-addicts, chances are someone is going to relapse, stay out, and die.  I remember meeting with her that first time in the recovery center she was in.  I remember someone coming into the room unannounced and the cool way she handled it.  She had a great confidence as much as she had the weakness of the disease.  I remember reading the big book with her and the magic those words bloomed once they passed our eyes, went into our minds, and out of our mouths.  I remember her feeling cagey countless times.  I remember her smile too.  I remember the group she went through rehab with, that very special group that I will always love.  They will always be in my heart.  Someone posted a picture of that group at my old home group on FB, at this run down church that had caution tape all of the pews.  There’s a strong chance I was there that night, right outside.  What a feeling.  The agony and ecstasy of being sober.  Loving people so much and finally feeling safe about it.  Losing someone and feeling like your heart is being ripped out.

I think about it a lot.  Staying sober for forever.  I just have today, yes, but I always hear about someone with 20+ years relapsing.  I don’t want to be a drunk mom.  I have absolutely no doubt in my mind that is what I would be if I chose to take a drink.  All I know is that even though the girl who died lived so far away from me and I didn’t even have a text relationship with her in a long time:  I will miss you.  I will mourn your death.  I will stay sober for you, today.  I will remember everything about Long Beach.  I will always be grateful for the foundation my sobriety was built on there.

I have this fantasy about buying a plane ticket just so I can go to my home group and fly back that same night.  Now is not the best time to waste money financially, and I probably won’t see very many familiar faces.  The urge to go there makes tears sting my eyes.  But I am here now.  Things aren’t what they were and I have a new sober family here.  A bunch of the women who went last night will go to the meeting I go to tonight.  This is a gift.

Love & life to you all.

~Namaste.