City Museum

By far my favorite part of my vacation earlier this month was the half day we spent in St Louis, mostly because of the City Museum.

My friend Krista told me about it, or I might never have known to go there. It's like no other museum I've ever heard of. We arrived around 8 Saturday night and paid our $10 for the Museum At Night and another $5 for the Roof Atop The City. It was crowded, an odd mix of families, tourists, and drunk 20-somethings.

Our first stop was the Tree Houses - huge, sprawling networks of wood and metal, pieced together for your climbing, crawling, sliding, exploring enjoyment. I got dirty. I got sweaty. I tore my shirt. At one point I got stuck because I was too short to get from A to B, so Eric had to pull my hands while some random pushed my feet till I could get myself out.

Next we hit the Skateless Skate Park, but it was packed full of kids. We did find a circular maze, narrow passages with lower and lower ceilings that eventually had me flat on my belly, GI Joe-crawling along until I reached an opening I couldn't fit through and had to go back. We stopped by the Shoelace Factory and dipped into the free sample bucket before moving on to the Wurlitzer Pipe Organ display, Art City, and finally to the giant slide that led back down to the ground floor.

Next stop: MonstroCity, an epic sculpture/jungle gym/obstacle course of scrap metal spanning the front of the museum. Now, I'd already been pushing my body to its limits in the Tree Houses. I'm in the worst shape of my life - I'm almost 20 pounds overweight and all the problems I have with my knee make things like crawling and climbing very difficult. But now I had to push my mind to its limits; I'm terrified of heights, and suddenly I can see the ground two, three stories below me through the gaps in the metal under my feet (or hands and knees sometimes). The scariest part for me was the plane - walking out on the wing of a suspended plane to get to the metal slinky leading off the tip of the wing. I didn't think I could do it, but Eric pretty much told me I had to - so I did! After that it was hard to be afraid of anything.

Soon we decided it was time to hit the roof. There are two elevators, and we found ourselves waiting with a crowd of drunk people. When we got on one elevator, they tried to tell us it was the wrong one. We ignored them because...well, because they were drunk. Then one of them got on with us - and this guy was extra-drunk - and someone else followed to insist that really, our elevator would not go all the way to the roof. We switched to the right elevator. Their inebriated amigo did not, even though they were all yelling for him. The doors were about to shut by the time he caught on. "What the fuck, you guys?!" His friends yelled at him about his language, and he demanded to know if there were children present (there weren't). "You don't know these people," one girl said, "you're gonna offend someone." "Seriously!" I said, "I'm fucking offended!"

There is a park on the roof with a pond and everything, it's lovely. I was in a hurry to get into the schoolbus that juts off one corner of the rooftop. It was full of drunk, amiable Australians. I just wanted to sit in the driver's seat, which is sticking out over an eleven-story drop, and open the door (the door is blocked by a metal grate for safety) so I did. One of the Aussie's yelled "door's open, I'm off!" I got up to leave and another said "I bet if we all jumped, we could tip this off the roof." "Oh you wait till I get off before you do!" I cried, and got "That's what she said!" in return, much to my delight.

This is the best picture I could find of my favorite part - the dome on the roof. See the gratework to the right of the photo? It extends down the dome to a little ladder from the floor. I stood at the ladder and traced the path upward and out. "Do you think you can do it?" Eric asked. I said no - and started up. And I did it. Two thirds of the way up, as it was shifting from an upward climb to a belly-crawl, I saw a couple standing below, pointing up at us like "Holy shit, look at them!" I don't know that I've ever been so proud and exhilarated.

Then a hilariously awkward thing happened when we tackled this slide. We'd already done it once, and I knew I couldn't make it all the way to the top without using the rope, so I was waiting for a clear path to make my run. Eric was already at the top, since he has freakishly long legs and didn't need the rope. I was JUST ABOUT to go when a little girl cut in front of me, entirely on accident I'm sure. Once she was up I made my ascent, with some random fratboy type standing at the top of the rope yelling "YEAH! YOU GOT THIS! COME ON! YOU GOT THIS!" like a cheerleader on steroids, or Matt Foley. I got to the top and pointed out to Eric the little girl who'd cut me off, who was just about to go down the slide. "Now's your chance for payback," he joked. "Hell yeah! You wanna be first? BE first!" and I mimed kicking her off the top of the slide. But as the words were coming out of my mouth, the fratboy cheerleader was slipping in front of me to go down the slide, and mistook my little tirade as being directed at him. "Oh I'm so sorry, here, go ahead!" I just stood there. How do you tell a complete stranger that no, you weren't talking to him, you were making a joke about kicking a little girl?

Eric had no desire to ride the rooftop ferris wheel, but I didn't want to miss it so he grudgingly went with me. It was scary and a little nauseating, but so incredible to see St Louis all lit up below us in the dark.

Finally we rode the 100-foot slide (it was so fast that near the end I used my feet to slow myself) and - exhausted, dirty, sweaty, bruised, and exhilarated, headed back to Springfield.

I can't wait to go back.

HOLY COW LIFE'S TOTALLY GOING SO FAST!!!

It's been so long since I've posted here that I don't even know where to begin. Every time I think of all the things I have in my head and my heart, the prospect of trying to fit it all into words overwhelms me!

I don't want to do an enormous, sprawling, rambling, multi-topic post (although I'm sure I have in the past) so stay tuned for at least two entries this weekend.

Yeah I know, what a cop-out.

You count the days as they barely move.

Whoa. Last time I paid this thing a visit, I was only 27.

27 was probably the most difficult year of my life, if not the worst. But all the struggling I did made it the most important year, too. I think I learned more, grew more, and changed more while I was 27 than I did collectively over all the years prior.

27 brought out the worst in me, brought me down to my basest level. I finally saw the girl I really was...and I didn't like her. I didn't hate her, either; I felt sorry for her. She was a victim, someone who let all the pain and ugliness around her ruin all that was good within her. She was pathetic.

But I'm a year older now, and thanks to the many ways I was blessed when I needed it most, I'm not that girl anymore. I've never been stronger or more self-assured. I now know that no matter what happens to me, I can and will survive.

That girl is still in here. Sometimes I catch glimpses of her under the surface. And honestly? I'm kind of glad. It feels good to know that I'm not her anymore because I choose not to be.

Stop the wagon, I'm getting off.

I've decided to drink.

I don't think it's a relapse. It's not a matter of "OMG life sucks I can't take it I need a drink!" I don't NEED a drink. Hell, I don't even want one right now.

What I want is certainty.

I wasn't what they call a "low-bottom drunk" when I quit. I didn't lose a job, or a spouse, or get sent to rehab.

I quit drinking because I could not picture my life without alcohol. This is no longer so. I haven't had a drink in ten months. I can do it.

But do I have to? I grow weary of being the only sober person at the party. Of the sheepish looks and awkward silences that follow harmless slips of the tongue from normal drinkers. If that's the way it has to be, then so be it. But what if that ISN'T the way it has to be?

I had a very bad year last year. No support system, no healthy coping mechanisms, no belief in myself or my future. I knew I was out of control, I just didn't care.

I'm not that girl anymore. I know who I am, and more importantly, who I want to be. I want to continue to grow as a person, to keep strengthening my relationship with God, to work toward my as-yet-undiscovered Personal Legend.

And I can no longer say with any degree of certainty that I must abstain from alcohol to do that. I can no longer say "I'm an alcoholic" and know it's true.

The Big Book says, if you're not sure you're an alcoholic, try some controlled drinking. So, that's what I intend to do. I'm not running back to the bottle or anything. But, the next time I'm in a social drinking situation, if I feel like it, I'll have a drink. My sponsor is on board. He says that the fact that I decided yesterday morning to try again, yet I haven't had a drink yet, is a good sign. He will be there for me whether I succeed or fail, and he will love me no matter what.

Maybe I'll discover that I CAN be a social drinker; that I'm not an alcoholic, I was just lost. Or, maybe I'll discover that I still can't have just one, that when I take that first drink I still lose all control. If so, then I'll go back to AA. But at least I'll know for sure.

We all shine like stars.

I need to start writing again. Not just here, but working on my dozen or so unfinished works of fiction. God gave us gifts with the expectation that we would share them with the world.

We owe it to our Maker to be our very best, to shine. I've been failing miserably at that lately.

Relationships are hard. They come packaged with a laundry list of worries we don't have when we're single, especially when we're single and NOT looking. A month ago, I was happy and comfortable with who I was, no need to compare myself to others, no sense of competition - I was good at being me. And now here I am, feeling like I'm in a constant battle to prove my worth over every other woman around, comparing myself to them - and losing - feeling like every word, every move, every look is a competition to hang onto what's already mine.

Now I look in the mirror and realize that there's very little left of the woman he fell in love with. I have lost her to my insecurities.

I for one will not stand for this. I often say that I'm not so afraid of losing something as to not try to have it; nor will I be so afraid of losing something that my fear will cost me that thing.

I don't have to be the prettiest. Or the smartest, or the funniest. Because I'm the best at being me. And being me is what he loves about me.

She's having my baby.

Stand down, I'm not really having a baby. But, I've been sober for nine months as of last Sunday. It feels at once like a long time and no time at all. I'm proud, I'm grateful, I'm acutely aware of how far I've yet to go.

I feel good about a lot of things, though. I'm a good person with a good heart. I'm genuine, compassionate, and tender. I'm learning to recognize and rectify the things I do that don't serve me well. I'm working on not taking responsibility for the people around me, on focusing my energy on things within my control.

Someone very dear to me relapsed last night. Not just relapsed, but "gave up on recovery" altogether. It breaks my heart. But I can't do anything about it. He's just not ready yet. All I can do is pray that someday he will be.

Whenever someone falls off the wagon, we say "They just haven't hit that bottom yet." It terrifies me. Have *I* hit that bottom? I was pretty lucky compared to a lot of people.

I know next time, I might not be so lucky. I know I don't want to find out. I know I don't want to go back out there, don't want to lose the things I've gained in recovery, don't want to go back to being that girl again. And I don't have to, so long as I keep working, keep praying, keep going to meetings. It's my choice.

Half Measures: Availing Me Nothing since 9/2010

One of the first things I learned in AA was "The only thing you have to change is everything." So I quit drinking, dropped some old friends, made some new ones, started focusing more on my relationship with God, started working the steps, started emphasizing acceptance...

But what did I really change?

Monday night I got into a heated debate with a fellow addict. I declared and explained my beliefs. Then I started questioning them. I knew WHAT I believed, but why did I believe it? Because it's right? Because it's convenient? Because I've been twisted by bad experiences?

I went to my sponsor and explained what I was feeling, and he ordered me to conduct a thirty-day experiment. I balked. "But that goes against who I am!"

That's when it hit me. How am I supposed to grow and change if I'm holding on to who I've always been? Who I am is a drunk. That's why I joined AA. But I've been trying to work the program while still being the same girl I've always been. And that won't work.

"Some of us have tried to hold on to our old ideas and the result was nil until we let go absolutely." I've heard that HUNDREDS of times and somehow I just never got it.

No more half measures. I'm going to stop justifying my behavior with "This is who I am!" I'm going to start trying new approaches to life and forming new beliefs.

For the record, I pretty much have no clue what I'm doing. But no idea is better than the wrong idea, right?