The crap dance.

I recently read this on Simon Pegg's twitter:
"After Minnie's morning poop, she does this "burying it" dance with her back legs. I'm stood there with a bag, all like, 'I got this, dude.'"

And I realized that pretty much sums up my relationship with God.

All the kicking and dancing and struggling I do to deal with my shit is just me getting in God's way, and He's waiting there to take care of it.

And that's how I finished my third step on my 30 day birthday.

Which is good, because my sponsor wants me through four and five before I leave for Thanksgiving. Eep! But, by the grace of God, it shall be done.

Everything I ever let go had claw marks on it.

I have been SO emo lately.

I had a pretty good - pretty UP - week, then crashed.

It's so hard to let go of the things that hurt me. I decided to try and let someone go on Friday, and that decision is like a knife in my heart. I don't want to let go, don't want to HAVE to let go. I want our friendship to rise above the complications of our past. I want to be able to share our struggles, to lean on each other, to enjoy the progress we are each making as people.

I don't want to face the fact that my friend has become a stranger to me. That the damage I've done can't be repaired. That we were unable to last the long dark night and will never get to see the sunrise.

And the sun IS coming up. I can see the sky starting to lighten already. If only the person I was didn't blow my chance at showing my friend the person I'm becoming.

I should have taken the blue pill!

Monday night, I had a crazy dream. It was so real and so vivid that I was completely lost when I woke up.

I was in California. It was beautiful, must have been Spring. I was visiting my friends. I remember being on my phone, arguing with my mom that I didn't have time to come visit her, and then jumping out from around the corner to surprise her. Then we climbed some spiral staircase and had lunch.

This is where it starts to get intense. I was with my friend Aaron. He took me to this place where there was a hammock overlooking a valley full of yellow wildflowers.I remember the press of the hammock against my bare arm, the warmth of his arms around me, the smell of his cologne and the faint but present smell of his cigarettes. Everything was so THERE. He asked me to marry him. I said yes. We celebrated with our friends, we moved in together.

One day we're sitting at the table, I'm looking at wedding magazines. I can remember the taste of my coffee, the weight of the cup, the grain of the wood, the angle at which the sun was streaming through the windows. Suddenly, I could hear a woman's voice. He couldn't hear it. It kept getting louder. I stood up - and I was in the valley of wildflowers, and the sky is dark, and I can still hear the voice.

It's a woman's voice, cold and detached. It sounds as if she's speaking to someone else, talking about something I don't understand, something technical. I can't remember what she said at all. Only that it terrified me, and that I KNEW I was crazy.

Then I woke up. Lost. Shaking and drenched in sweat. I couldn't figure out why I was in my "old" room when I don't live there anymore. I could picture every detail of my bedroom in my dream, although I don't ever remember seeing it. It took about ten minutes for me to sort out reality.

The best laid plans...well, you know.

I've actually been avoiding this place because I was supposed to blog about PAX and I haven't. I still will. I have a ton of great memories from the trip that I both want to share and to get down in text. But there's something else to talk about first.

My name is Jacki and I'm an alcoholic.

People have been on me about my drinking to various degrees for some time now. I'm blessed to have a friend in the program in Detroit. One day he told me "Call me when you hit step one." I had to google that.

One night I was at the bar - drunk - and texting with my best friend. He said "We're gonna have a talk tomorrow, missy." I insisted that we go ahead and talk, and he told me I drink too much (among other things). And since everything seems so simple when I'm drunk, I said "Okay, I'll quit drinking!"

When I sobered up, I discovered something horrifying. I discovered I literally CANNOT picture my life without alcohol. I contacted my friend in Detroit. I said "My life has become unmanageable." He found meetings for me.

I've been sober for 13 days today. I've been to a meeting every night for a week. I feel so blessed that this program exists. Every night I get to have my hope, faith, and strength renewed, I get to learn, I get to spend an hour or so with people who genuinely care about my struggle because it is also theirs, and they are helping me the way others helped them, the way I will someday help others.

I don't really know who I am without alcohol. But I'm excited to find out. And I know that whoever I am is better than who I had become.

PAX peeps recap!

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PAX lines.

I'm not in a position to start recapping PAX properly, so i'm using this space for a collection of one-liners and snippets.

"Sexy Canadian sandwich!"

"Cat thinks Pope is HAWT."

"Quit talking about bacon when I'm trying to make a video!"

"Are you about to get awesome?"

"Why the fuck is there no beer on the kids menu???"

"It's called coke and rum, not fuck, you're dumb."

"Dude, I named her cat."

"Get your blowjob card punched!"

"You - get back here!"

"We gotta find Cat's shoes!"

"PENIS is my FAVORITE!"

"We're not gonna be sad."

"It's a dildo donut."

"It's long. Looong."

"Semen enema?"

"Could you press three too for us please?"

"Are you gonna go get a sweater?"

"Gang into it?"

To be continued...

And all the roads we have to walk are winding, and all the lights that lead us there are blinding.

We had it so good.

It was the most awesome first date. Watching turtles at the arboretum. Sunset over the lake. Walking, just walking. Eating popsicles. The hissing from the bushes - I leapt back, actually lept, and he swept me behind him, protecting me from... the sprinklers. But it COULD have been a rabid animal! We went back to my shuttle, I made popcorn and watched Zim. We must have played three movies, and just talked through all of them. He put his arm around me. "Are you gonna kiss me?" And he did.

Tom's going away party, with all his friends. Double rainbow in the car, all four of us. Sitting on his lap singing Journey. Beer pong in the basement and I broke a couple bottles. "It's okay, I'm just drunk! I'm just drunk!" Dancing - "For drunk and clumsy you're really pretty good!" Happy Meals and Zim and falling asleep on the couch.

Animonday - anime and plum wine, holding hands on the couch.

Who could say no to all that? He's hurting. We're ALL hurting, aren't we? Joy is the cure for pain. Not quarantine.

Tomorrow I'll be 2000 miles away, having the time of my life with some of my favorite people. But suddenly that matters not half as much as knowing he said we could do dinner on his birthday next week.

Teach me how to NOT go all in, for once.