STFU...

...you frelling, slimy chunk of grey slag in my skull ! ! !

It's like this (& how many times have I repeated this crap before?):

I stayed up late, ensuring that the Kijiji rigamarole is settled for Saturday's insanity of de-cluttering my dad's house, getting my Home Group updated on our world Fellowship's website, doing a bit of work on my own website (will that ever end?!) and a bit of this, that and the inexorable other thing. Ah, bedtime!!

I feel tired. I get my clock and sleep sounds set on my iPoop, pop a couple of 1mg melatonin (should I take 3? no... I'm tired, 2's OK) and turn off the lights.

BOOM!!

My fucking brain decides to do its favorite game of ratcheting up the thought processes into its classic overdrive, warp speed factor 9.3. Thinking about this, that, and... well, unh-huh. Every thought tended to generate its own children, offspring from heck that all clamor for attention. "Me! Me! Pick ME!!!"

Shut up. Shut Up! Just S.T.F.U!!! 

And so... and so, here I be, listening to Day 2 of Woodstock (CCR currently rocking away), sipping my cuppa tea (yeah, I know, YOU shut up!) and wondering why it is... Why it STILL is that, even with the yoga techniques I've learned to meditate and calm my mind, I still fall into the trap of thinking about, Obsessing About, every gods damned thing there could ever be in this universe.

The only thing I missed thinking about is catfishing. Which was good, because the last time I obsessed over that was two years back and my aunt died the day I had planned to do a day & overnight of fishing. Monkey wrench? oh, there it is...

My head hurts. I'll take a coupla acetaminophen for that in a bit. I will get my head settled, calmed, under control. And, I'll bet that when I go to bed I'll actually go to sleep and...

BOOM!!

My fucking diabetic neuropathy will kick in with excruciating leg cramps and nerve pain. THAT has been a great sleep interrupter over the past few months. Who needs insomnia?

Frell me. Frak me, also. Should I throw in th other "F" bomb?? Naw, you get the point. Poor me. Wah. Boo-hoo. sniff... fuck.... Oops! I said I wasn't going to do that, didn't I??!! ah, fuck it........

Keep The Faith*
(oh my, gotta love them vocals of The Pearl, Janis Joplin!)

Blast From The Past

Amazing thing tonight at my Home Group. There was a new member who came last week and again tonight. He isn't new as in "newcomer", just new to our small group. 

I remembered him from l-o-n-g ago, probably going on to 20+ years now. He was a "voice" way back then, and it appears that he still is today. This fellow has an opinion on how groups, if not the Fellowship as a whole, should run. HIS way.

Well, I was going to get into some of the particulars of what this lad wanted us to do as a group to change the city's view of where our meeting is. But, I won't. (even tho' it'd be just oh-so much FUN to do so!) I think it best to say that the title of Robb's Place says it all - - go look, if you forget.

Another amazing thing was this wonderful two year old who was sitting next to me during the sharing. I was trying to keep him amused using my iPoop and a drawing app. Another member was sharing right across from us and he suddenly stopped everything to stare and, what looked like, listen. 

Absolutely enamored with what this member was saying. He ignored my pad, the keytag I showed him, a toy car... nothing doing. It just reminded me, again, of the power that someone sharing what their recovery can do. This tyke probably didn't understand a word, but realized that whatever those words were, they were Important !!

Which is why I love going to meetings, even when I hate going to meetings. Invariably, someone is going to say something that will resonate with me. What that member said tonight did, and (it appeared) with a two year old son of another member. A-fucking amazing!!

Keep The Faith*

Good Rules, Good Stuff

My daughter shared this image on FB. I found it to be very very close to the tenets I hope to follow in my recovery journey. Well, except for the "Type YES if you agree" shit, which I cut out of the image because I find that kinda crapola idiotic.
Hmmmm, not very spiritual, eh?

Keep The Faith*

This Is My Recovery

Doesn't look pretty, but after I looked at this and realized what it represented...,

This was the lock box we bought to contain the key to my Home Group's facility. Unfortunately snow, freezing temps and ICE sealed the thing better than epoxy glue mixed with cement.

I had brought along a pair of pliers last week to try to get the thing open, put it refused. Another member tried and failed. Then he did what I had felt like doing and pounded the fuck out of it until the box gave up its prize.

And the title of this entry? Well, as I sat looking at this mangled piece of plastic & metal, I started to think about how I needed to really buckle down and work my recovery. This lock box, in its busted state, told me how I need to go about getting my recovery path back on track.

I can't be subtle. I can't be cerebral, or philosophical, or even spiritual, kinda... If need be, I gotta pound the fuck out of my recovery to get to that prize inside. Some serenity, some peace, and with luck, just a wee bit o' sanity back into my life.

So, there you have it. A banged up key lock box representing what I might need to do for my recovery. Heck, it could even be a visual example of how I feel about my life today! Kinda beat up and knocked around, but inside there is that bit of Hope......

Keep The Faith*

No More ARGH

I just got back from my dad's place. The argh is done. My dad died sometime on Wednesday.

My sister couldn't get an answer on the phone all day Wednesday. She called me around 11:00 p.m. and I got on a bus out to his place. She also got hold of her son who lives in town and he got there before me.

The coroner said it could have been this or it coulda been that. He was 82 and it could just be that his heart went out.

I dunno. I have been staying at his house 4 days out of the week for the past 2 years. I'd been having a very hard time dealing with his dementia was becoming short with him. I need to now deal with that pang of guilt I have that... well, the "what if..." and "should have", could have", etc.

I know it wasn't my fault (yeah right, Robb) and this... well...
I just gotta deal with it all. All the crap I dealt with when my aunt died (dad's sister) 2+ years back. All the yadda yadda and blahblahblah.

Off to my home group tonight, thank the gods, because I am opening the facility. If it wasn't for that simple fact, I probably wouldn't go. Me and my isolationist ways. Sigh... Oh well, my life goes on. Deal with it. Work my way thru it. Carry on and start living my recovery again.

FUCK!!!
right, and...
Keep The Faith*