If the dream isn't real, is the lie worth defending?

I think I'm in shock.

I haven't cried since the 17th, when I confessed at the Monday night meeting that I very nearly took my life.

When I fell and hit my head last week and I hurt so badly in so many places, I didn't cry.

When I found out mama lost her job, throwing a wrench in the machinations of being a family again, I didn't cry.

When I scheduled a painful invasive medical procedure that is likely only the first in a long battle, I didn't cry.

When I realized that I have to quit force-feeding myself and just wait until my stomach cramps and nausea - which I've had since Sunday night - go away, I didn't cry.

People ask me how I am and I smile and tell them I'm good. I go to meetings, I do my studies and meditations, I pray.

My sleep is tortured; every night, a new nightmare. I wake in pain from the tension in my body.

And yet, I smile. I say I'm fine.

I'm starting to worry about what it's gonne feel like when I stop being fine.

Come on, baby, make it hurt so good.

I got a new tattoo on Saturday.

It snowballed very quickly from "I think I'd like to get a cross inside my left wrist someday" to a 5:30 appointment at the shop.

Someone asked me if I like the pain. My instinct is to say no, I don't like the pain - and oh boy was there pain, much more than my first tattoo, but I didn't grit my teeth or cry or anything, just sat calmly and watched the needle dig into my skin - but I can't deny that I get a euphoric feeling from the experience that may be attributed as much to the process as the product.

When I go for a tattoo, I go in with only the vaguest idea of what I'm getting. I don't want to print a picture off the internet and pay someone to scratch it into my skin. I want an artist to take my idea and make it concrete, and then take the design that was done for me and make it a part of me. There's an unmistakable bond there - when someone's vision becomes a part of someone else's body.

I'm already looking forward to my next one.

It isn't so bad now that all the supports have been steady.

I got pulled over Wednesday. My tags were six weeks expired. $125 ticket. Plus the registration cost, even though I may hopefully be getting a new car TOMORROW.

I fell Thursday morning. Went down flat on my back, hit my head. I've got a swollen, bruised place on my back, a bruised arm, and reverse whiplast from my head getting thrown backward. My neck is in agony - even breathing hurts.

I was overwhelmed this morning. Finally I wailed to Michelle, "WHY does this week have to be SO AWFUL? Haven't I had enough? Can't I catch a break?"

She calls it 'someone down there hates us' syndrome. It makes perfect sense to me. I'm finally in the hands of the Father, so my recent miseries and misfortunes are a last-ditch effort to steal my miracle, to turn me back to the dark side. WELL IT'S NOT WORKING. After Michelle and I had a little chat about that, I felt strong and triumphant.

Last night at bedtime I went to read a Psalm, and I opened my Bible to Psalm 51. It was exactly what I needed.

All things work for the good of those that love the Lord.

Everybody's got something to hide except for me and my monkey.

I'm grounded.

* No dating.
* No staying out past 11 PM.
* No going out without telling Michelle where I'll be and with whom.
* Attend at least once a week a church of my choosing.

In addition to the groundation, I have an assignment. When Michelle was a little girl, her mother took a little notepad and wrote down all the prayers and Bible verses she felt a little girl needed to know as she grew up. So Michelle bought me a lovely new notebook, and handed me the notepad from her mother, and instructed me to copy those prayers and verses into my own notebook. (As an aside, the friend that I wrote about in my earliest entries, the dear woman who passed away on Father's Day, was Michelle's mother.) I can't articulate how deeply this has touched my heart.

In my early days of sobriety, I would wake with a feeling of serenity. Sometimes it would be gone within the hour, other times it would last the day. Now, I wake with my heart disquiet. I start the morning with an empty glass, and it is up to me to fill it with serenity as I move through my day. This is a better way; complacency did me no favors.

Today is four months sober for me. My first birthday that I don't get to celebrate in a meeting (after 3 months you have to wait for 6) and I'm relieved it's so. I couldn't celebrate there now. Not yet. Not while I'm so acutely feeling someone's absence.

So many people know the first verse of the Serenity Prayer, but the second verse is so important, so here's the whole enchilada.

"God, grant me the Serenity to accept the things I cannot change,the courage to change the things I can, and the wisdom to know the difference.
Living one day at a time, enjoying one moment at a time, accepting hardship as the pathway to peace. Taking, as He did, this sinful world as it is, not as I would have it. Trusting that He will make all things right
if I surrender to His will. That I may be reasonably happy in this life, and supremely happy with Him forever in the next."

Amen.

“If you don't know where you are going, any road will get you there.” - Lewis Carroll

I believe in miracles.

But I didn't understand them.

I thought that miracles were all beauty and joy, sweetness and light.

Silly girl.

Life tested me recently. Tested US. And we failed. We KNEW the right thing to do, but we hadn't the strength to do it.

God had to intervene. He had to do the right thing for us. And we have to suffer because of it. We must suffer because we didn't choose the easier, softer way. And it hurts God to make us suffer like this, but it was the only way. He had to do for us what we could not do for ourselves. Just as we were promised He would.

We will not regret the door. We will forgive one another, and we must forgive ourselves. God loves us even when we fail Him; he loves us even when we are weak. The Shepherd loves His lambs even when they hear His voice but don't come.

We can't drink. We must go to meetings. We must make things different, that they may get better.

I told you that you'd be my saving grace, and I was right. I just never imagined how rough the path to salvation would be. But I am grateful to you, my friend. Our road didn't take me where I thought it would, but it took me where I needed to go.

"Just because something doesn't do what you planned it to do doesn't mean it's useless." - Thomas Edison

What if I can't trust myself, what if I just need some help?

"But there is suffering in life, and there are defeats. No one can avoid them. But it's better to lose some of the battles in the struggles for your dreams than to be defeated without ever knowing what you're fighting for." - Paul Coelho

What am I fighting for?

I thought I was fighting for love and truth. That's what I've always told myself. But I'm lost in the woods. I think I still know my goals, but my methods and motivations have become cloudy even to my own eyes.

Maybe that's the nature of battle. Whatever we're fighting for when we take up arms...when the bullets start flying, our base instincts kick in and we're just fighting to survive, no matter the cost. We act out of fear.

I have aimed with my eye, shot with my hand, killed with my gun. I have forgotten the face of my Father.

It's so hard not to feed that wolf. So easy to forget that every time we feed it, it grows stronger. And someday it will feed on me. Faithless little lamb that I am.

This is the diem we're supposed to carpe.

Yesterday, I attended a funeral for a dear man. He was 70, but his death was sudden, unexpected, tragic.

This could well be the last entry I ever write. Or the last entry you ever read. You never know what the future brings, or when your journey will come to an end.

In AA, we are taught that the most important day in our sobriety is this one. Tomorrow is nothing more than a maybe.

I couldn't afford to go to Seattle in September. But I went, and I don't regret it for a second. Either I'll get out of debt, or I'll die broke. Either way, I still spent four days with some of the most important people in my world, strengthening bonds and forming lasting memories.

I'm doing the same thing next month with my trip to Tampa. I've gotten more than a little crap from my financial advisor about being "reckless" (and irresponsible - he doesn't say it but it's implied) and I assure him that I know, and I don't care.

A year from now, I could be dead and gone. I'm not missing a single opportunity to live.

Eyes on the horizon.

Life is strange, but it's beautiful.

I have this exhilarating feeling, like I'm rushing toward something incredible. Because I AM. In a few months, my family will be reunited. I'll be living in a new place, living a new life, as a new me. There are so many good things in the works, some I'm keeping quiet for now.

Turns out, letting go wasn't necessary. My friend is a part of my life again. I can't begin to describe my joy.

Next month, I'm going on an epic adventure! My first trip to America's wang, to see Kyle! I am excite! We will overdose on energy drinks and deprive ourselves of sleep and much awesomeness will ensue. Tampa may never recover.

I hate to say it, but...my future's so bright, I gotta wear shades.

(I lied. I'm an 80's baby all the way - I didn't hate saying it.)