Book of Jamez

55 y/o malcontent, something of a writer

Author: Jamez

  • Career and Locale Change #changes

    For the last few months I’ve been taking classes at night a couple times a week (Tuesday and Thursdays) to learn to be a phlebotomist and yesterday afternoon I took the final exam and am now certified and set to begin my new journey. My instructors at Because We Care here in DC were just so amazing and helpful and made the whole thing seem so easy – I know it’s because they were so good at training us. 

    A phlebotomist, in case you didn’t know is a technician that collects blood for testing and for transfusions, labeling the different samples, and keeping on top of all documentation. You’ve probably had a phlebotomist take your blood during your last doctor visit and didn’t even know they were anything besides a nurse. It’s very technical and specialized, I had to work for long hours figuring out the best ways to slip the syringe-needle with minimal discomfort on the patient. I’m actually getting a little turned on by wearing the rubber gloves so sometimes I might spend a little extra time just making sure they are “just right” before I begin.

    I had quite a few slips ups during my training and knew when the patient had gone that it would either bruise or at minimum sting for a little bit. But now I’m much more confident and have learned to distract the patient a little bit before I slip it in – mostly I just strike them up in casual conversation; ask them about their families or where they’ve vacationed lately. In my cubicle at the school lab I placed two posters for them to look at to help, one of the posters is a beautiful mountaintop covered in snow with a a couple of skiers on what looks like a milk run – boy does that scene make me wish I was out there this moment enjoying the powder. The other poster is just a couple of kittens, some people are into that I guess. I’ve learned that sometimes you have to go out of your way to please other people – especially if it helps them to relax, I’m all about small talk, but sometimes other distractions work.

    In anticipation of this certification I have been putting out feelers discretely for work in places that I’d like to live, you all know the list as I’ve talked about it so many times before but I think I’ve finally settled on Winnipeg, Manitoba, Canada. I’ve sent my resume into St. Boniface hospital there and have already been asked to come in for an interview. My friend Nathan has assured me that I can crash at his house for the interview and if I get the job then I could even crash there until I get on my feet. Wow, I’m finally going to have free health care and I will only have to move out of the “land of the free” to get it. Crazy right? These Canadians not only have free health care, they are getting rid of their penny and have a porn channel… a porn channel! can you imagine? And the winters there I hear are comparable to what we have in the DC area so I’ll be fine.

    I’m flying out Monday for the interview and hope to have a job offer this week and if so I’ll be giving notice at my job then packing up and heading for Winnipeg! During my visit in September of last year I just fell in love with the place, the people, the poutine it’s everything I ever wanted and more. They’ve have good quality AA, beefy men and the Blue Bombers – Canada’s best football team and you know I’m a big football fan so I belong in this city. Once I’m settled in I hope a lot of you have the opportunity to visit – especially in January you really want to experience the snow and ice blanketing the city – it’s stunning.

    The thought of working in a hospital environment collecting bodily fluids for testing and labeling is just very fulfilling. I look forward to sucking… er drawing the blood out of Canadians for many years to come. I hope that you will all also have the opportunity to feel this fulfilled about a career change as I do.

    Becoming a certified phlebotomist is a life long dream I’ve had for a couple of months now and it’s finally becoming a reality.

    If you’re late to the party, this was my April Fools Day Post – I pass out around needles and blood, detest snow and cold weather and don’t do “small talk”.

  • Personal Perceptions

    A lot of people have self-image issues. Me too. I can look in the mirror on a given day and see reality has set in.  The image of me that I have in my mind is of a 12 year old boy. Skinny, 70s haircut (in the early 80s), bell bottom or high water pants, hand-me-down shirt, tobacco stains on my teeth and fingers. It’s not reality, but it’s the main psychic self image that I project, why? I have no idea. But I rarely think of myself in any other way. The crows feet around my eyes, the gray hair in my facial hair (or even more disturbing the first few times – gray pubic hairs – Oh no!) and on my head, the sagging here or the sagging there… It’s not just the aging thing – it’s comparing ourselves to the outside world or the world of Hollywood. Yeah, that’s a wise move for mental health, comparing yourself to celebrities.

    On Wednesday I dressed up for work, normally I wear jeans and a t-shirt. I had a few errands to run and later would be shopping for a suit at Macy’s so wanted a white shirt on to get the full effect of the image. On the way to the office I had to make a couple of stops, both work related, and was complimented on how I looked by a few different people and even had a few give me the once over. I had my friend take this photo the same day.    While suit shopping after I had left the office two guys flirted with me at Macy’s, and Al at Annie’s was almost in a tizzy and said I looked great – my standard response there is “so you’re saying I look like crap every other day?” Al didn’t take the bait, but said you normally just come in looking “usual”. Hmm, I thought….

    When I had a chance to upload the photo to the iMac I took a look at it and saw all the things that everyone else missed. I see the belly that makes me look a bit pregnant,  a gap in-between my teeth that makes me look rural, the receding gray hairline, and a wrinkly shirt. I don’t usually smile in photos so hate this one just like all the other ones that I smile in. That’s just how I perceive me – I have a poor self body image, so do a lot of folks.

    I went so far as to put this photo on a few online dating sites I frequent and a lot of guys had very nice complimentary things to say about it, a few people who have seen photos I like of myself said they like this photo best – my perception is rarely reality, or maybe these guys have been doing a lot of hallucinatory drugs or losing their vision – I vote for the later.

    I have a friend who is the skinniest person I know who thinks she is fat on occasions, works out constantly and guys cruise her all the time, maybe her self image is of the girl she used to be. I have a friend who’s a big sexy black guy that so self conscious about his body that he wont come to Zumba with me as he thinks folks will not want to see him there – he’s not a freak show, he’s a big sexy guy (lose weight or don’t, you’ll still be sexy), but maybe he can’t get past his self-image – I can’t, so who am I to judge. Yet another friend is trying to grow her hair out after chemo took it all last year, it’s a slow process and the hair is having a mind of it’s own, this frustrates her a lot, but her hair is such a small part of the whole package of her and those of us that know her think she looks great all the time – however I still give her a hard time about the hair, cause I love the reaction.

    We are who we are, whether we can see it in the mirror or our minds eye or not. Should we be healthy, I guess… but even then that may not change how we view ourselves. So I might be getting a belly, might have a gap in my teeth, I certainly have gray hair all over the place. I am who I am, I can change some things about that sure, but I’m probably always going to look inside of myself and see the skinny kid with the welfare glasses and paisley shirt.

  • Oral Follow Up

    There I am, sitting in the dentists chair waiting for the periodontist. I can hear the dentist next door talking to a patient about getting a bridge after he has two extractions. The dentist then goes on to tell about an incident where he himself was in a motorcycle accident and have to have his lower set of teeth replaced with implants and how painful it was to have the procedure done…. Honestly, the whole room can hear you talk about that crap while we’re sitting here anxiously awaiting our own torture – LIE or something. It really wasn’t at all helpful for keeping me calm.

    I think I sat in that chair for twenty minutes (really – they were late starting on me) listening to the dentist tell tales of horror and the drill and other noises in the background and the sweat was collecting on my forehead and back when the periodontist finally showed up. They got me seated again – I can’t stand sitting too long when my back is drenched in sweat you know – and started some oxygen and then the nitrous oxide. I felt him place the needles in my mouth for novocaine at least I think it was novocaine and that was all I felt for the whole procedure – not a thing more.

    Before I knew it I was signing out and getting in the car to go home. I went to get the prescriptions 1 bottle of antibiotic, one bottle of special mouthwash (as I wont be able to brush on the right side for a few days) and one bottle of Vicodin (containing 4 pills). At home I handed the bottle of Vicodin to Gary for safe keeping – I had given him instructions on how to handle me and drugs earlier.

    Around 8 or so I had a bowl of cereal and that hurt a little bit so I took two Aleve. The Periodontist said I’d likely need at least one Vicodin to get to sleep the first night so I took one and hit the hay… I didn’t sleep well, I wasn’t in pain I don’t know why I didn’t sleep I just mostly tossed and turned.

    The next day I had a minor ache in my jaw most of the day and took two Tylenol, ate cautiously and napped vigorously. That was it – nothing to it.

    Before the procedure I had several people tell me how painful it was and that they were thinking of me and really felt for me. I appreciate the concern and care – even if all it did was make me more paranoid and anxious! 🙂 I don’t know why this wasn’t that painful – all throughout the procedure I kept finding myself tensed up and I would force myself to take a deep breath and relax back into the chair, over and over and over again I did that – not due to any pain, just the imagining of pain or worse… maybe all that relaxing and conscious effort to not tense up helped. No way of knowing I guess.

    So I’ve got a week and a half more to go before I should be all better and I don’t expect to use the other three Vicodin pills so they’ll get dumped in the toilet so the alligators can have a treat. Even though this was relatively simple I really hope I never have to do it again!

  • Periodontist – a.k.a. Dr. Evil

    This afternoon I’m having minor surgery on my mouth. Apparently years of not taking care of your teeth can lead to fun later on in life – or maybe this is just a result of growing old… although I don’t recall any old people in recent memory talking about a periodontist cutting into their gums and filling in a space that has formed between the root and the bone. Bone loss, I was told – sounds wonderful. I’m not sure exactly what’s going to happen, the Periodontist started to tell me and then I started to get nauseous (see this post to see how I am) so I asked him to stop and just give me the basics:

    • How long will it take?
    • Will it hurt?
    • How long is the recovery process?
    • Will I be able to walk home?

    I really did ask all those questions and the only answer I remember is Yes, I’ll be able to walk home. I know they’ll give me an anesthetic and maybe some laughing gas.  I know once I’m in the chair I plan to close my eyes and try not to be present.

    Gary has agreed to pick me up and manage the pain medication – that’s really the scariest part – Vicodin. I don’t think I’ve ever had any medication that was stronger than Tylenol or Advil – never had a need. Perhaps as we get older and have to maintain our failing bodies we need medication that we wouldn’t otherwise. But I’ve heard story after story of members of AA that relapsed and it started with a pain medication that they were given after a surgery, yeah, I don’t need that to happen.

    Yesterday at the end of my meeting they asked if anyone had any burning desires, something that you needed to share because otherwise you feared you might get drunk. I didn’t think that I might get drunk, but I did think I’d heard many people talk about upcoming surgeries or events that they were worried about. But I thought to myself that I’m certainly not that person… I remember a time or two when someone’s burning desire was that they were having a birthday party that weekend or they wanted to whine about the subject they’d been whining about for over a year – yeah, no I don’t have a burning desire so I didn’t share about it. I don’t think I’ve ever been to a meeting where someone had a burning desire that was about wanting to drink… interesting.

    Thankfully I have tomorrow off in case I need it and the boss will be in New York dealing with the never ending project. Suzanne says I’ll be fine, Gary promises to manage the medication, Jason says I have a healthy fear of relapse/drinking… Well, none of this really makes me feel better but it’s good to know that I have people thinking about me today I guess.

    So anyway, this afternoon I’ll be a mess – then I’ll have surgery and be a disaster.

  • Crossroads

    There wasn’t a lot of church activity when I was growing up – occasionally Mom or one of her husbands would get the idea that they could sleep off their hangovers if we were in Sunday school – but we weren’t regulars at any church. I remember kids in school that were having Confirmation but not having a clue what that meant – some archaic practice by Christians I guess.This was the God that kept my family in poverty, the depths of alcoholism and domestic abuse and did nothing to save us. (views I had as a child)

    As I grew older the God of the masses – picture the bearded old man, scowling down from heaven, condemning mortals to hell – and those who worshiped him weren’t appealing in the least. This was also the God that hated homosexuals and had condemn all gays to die of AIDS and I was beginning to believe i was one of those homos. (views I had as a teenager)

    So when I was a teen, I opted out – I chose to believe in the the ancient Gods of Greece instead of the Christian God of those around me. I believed that if someone believes in something then that entity becomes real and gains power from that belief – this idea was likely instilled in me by various comic book storylines of the time – Teen Titan’s Brother Blood in particular. So as long as I believed in these old Gods they would have power. Sounds nice no? I firmly believed that my belief in these old Gods was stronger than the belief of 100 Christians.

    During the time of my exploration of belief and worship of these old Gods I also did some research into Satanism. I wasn’t really interested in being a satanist, but I figured you should know who your enemies are and I should at least see what all the fuss is about – after all, if the Christians were opposed to Satanism there must be something worth while in it. I bought a copy of the Satanic Bible, by Anton Szandor LaVey the fact that this thing was even available at the book store still surprises me. I read and studied this book and overall didn’t think much of it – I didn’t feel any power or evil aura about the thing – it is just like a Bible Christians use – fiction. I was 15 at the time, I suppose if I looked at it now I might feel different about it or if I studied it with someone who claimed to be a practicing Satanist it might have more significance – but the Satanic Bible, like the Christian Bible, is open to interpretation. If you want to see evil in it, you’ll see evil in it, if you want to see good in it, you’ll see good in it. I wanted to see a path to power and magic, but I didn’t see that in it at all. A few years later I bought a few extra copies of the book and distributed them in school to folks that were curious – still rather amazed that that didn’t get me into trouble.

    None of these belief systems was really practiced religiously – for lack of a better word – by me. I’m sure there are aspects of believing in the ancient gods of Greece that didn’t even occur to me. I just know I wanted a better option than what was available to me in Midwest WI, and having many gods each responsible for different parts of the universe seemed very appealing – being different than the masses, the sheep, even more so.

    When alcoholism caught up with me at the age of 22 I was without hope – here I was a believer in Dionysus, the god of wine, how could I worship him and be sober – that was a dilemma for me, sounds silly I know, but it really was an argument that went through my mind frequently during my first attempt at sobriety.

    At an AA meeting the other day I shared that when I first came to AA (actually, this was my second attempt at sobriety) I was convinced that I had to believe in the Christian idea of God – no matter “god of my understanding”. And that “god” I hated. Here I was, hopeless, and having to believe in a God I wanted nothing to do with – but I really did want to get better and find a solution to my problem. That solution, AA assures me, is a power greater than myself.

    Eventually, through working the Steps of AA, taking actions I didn’t believe in, and praying to a God I hated – I grew to no  longer hate the idea of Him. The problem was I was convince that even though I no longer hated him, I knew he hated me – he hates all the homos and queers you know. So I struggled for a while, believing in this entity that I was certain didn’t want me to be on the planet, or in the universe. This led me to wonder why I was cursed with these thoughts of same-sex attraction by this God, why tempt me with these thoughts if you were just condemning me to hell for acting on them? Obviously, he hated me.

    What you, well at least what I, come to find out in AA is that God is Love, God is Action, God is. So eventually the fear and hate left me and left my idea of God and I was content.

    More will be revealed.

    As the years have come and gone, my ideas of a power greater than myself have evolved. This is a result of AA, praying, actions, and love. But also a result of those things is the current state of belief for me – I don’t think at present I believe in a God.

    Our book says “Be quick to see where religious people are right. Make use of what they offer.” Alcoholics Anonymous Chapter 6 Into Action. I can do that, I can see where the practice of prayer and meditation can benefit me – even if that prayer is sent up to nothingness it’s the act of saying the words aloud that change me. I’ve looked into the organization that gets people sober without God, but it’s a completely different program that doesn’t incorporate the Steps and I don’t know how deep I want to delve. I know the 12 Steps work, I know it based on myself and countless others I’ve seen changed completely by the Actions we’ve taken.

    But, I can’t believe in a talking snake. I can’t stand by and watch the religious condemn others, I can’t pretend to be ok with the hate I see spewing out of these building/organizations that should be about Love. I can’t believe in a God that says “I have to wear a silly hat” or “women are less than” or “thou shalt not eat pork” or “once a year you have to walk around with ashes on your forehead” – WTH is that about. If I want snakes to talk – I’ll drop some acid. What do hats have to do with God? Why do I have to remove my hat when entering a Church, unless it’s one of the silly hats prescribed by the tenets? Does your God only favor certain hats – shouldn’t we stop making any hat that’s not acceptable then?

    The point of this particular rant today – at the moment, I choose not to believe in a power greater than myself. For my sobriety, I’ll still pray to nothingness, I’ll still take the actions I know to be the right actions, but I’ve not going to spend time and energy believing in myths and stories from ancient times that people are still trying to make relevant today.

    If you want to believe in an ancient spiritual being with guidelines from those times – hey, go ahead knock yourself out. But think about what your doing when you believe. Think about the organization that you are supporting. Are you full of love? Are they? Or are they a political machine or worse a child prostitution ring that continues to get away with raping innocent children with the help of your donations. Is that the type of organization that is worthy of spreading a message of love? I digress – the point is, think about your blind faith.

  • Joe

    I received news this evening that Joe Appel is “not doing well” and then received confirmation from my brother that he’s dying. Joe Appel was my biological mothers second husband, he’s the father of my little brother Ryan and little sister Amy. For most of my life my last name was Appel, I was adopted by Joe after he married my mother. For all of my childhood Joe was “Dad” at some point I knew he was my adoptive dad. I have some memories of the day that happened, I remember being dressed up in case the judge wanted to talk to me. He was all I knew I had as a Dad.

    Through my memories I see his fists flying into my mother, onto her face, into her body. I see her battered and bruised, I see blood on his fists that is likely hers and not his. I recall night after night of drunkenness where we lie frightened in our bedrooms wondering if tonight would be another night that we’d hear her scream.

    I recall the nights we spent in battered women shelters after one of those incidents – it never occurred to me when I was young, but as I type this and remember that place was full of families just like mine. The strange smells, the odd noises the crying in the cot not three feet from where you were curled up. That was better than the violence in our own home.

    We’d never know when it would be safe to go home, many a time we’d run away Mom and us, to a friends or to a shelter or to Grandmas. One time in particular he threatened to kill the cats if we didn’t come back right then.

    I recall only a few times when his fist hit me, I know he’s beat my brother senseless on many occasions. I don’t know if he hit Amy and Dawn, I have no memory of it happening, but my memories fade more each day.

    I remember distinctly a visit to his parents house where he started to beat on my mom and his family joined in. That was the day they didn’t matter to me anymore.

    He was, is, a monster. He would beat on Mom and then we’d get away or he’d get arrested… but he always came back, like a bad penny. I don’t think he has any remorse or regret for the pain he inflicted – hell I doubt he thinks he did anything wrong at all.

    I can’t say that I’m sorry to hear he’s dying, not when I’ve know good men that have died too young. Why would this bastard son-of-a-bitch get to live this long, drinking every day of his life and beating on people that depended on him as he wanted. Sure he’s spent some time in jail, but not enough. Sure he’s probably had some pain, but not nearly enough. He’s a veteran, doesn’t matter, doesn’t give a license to treat human being that way. He’s sick, doesn’t matter that’s not a get out of jail card either.

    Part of me can’t help but think back on all the times Mom would call from the hospital or the nut house saying “I’m dying” and we’d all rush home to be there and she’d disappoint us again – that sounds harsh no? but that’s what it was at the end for me one more time she couldn’t just go, just quit being sick and tired and go.

    So now I think about Joe, yes, it’s time to die – but there’s no way you’ve suffered enough. No damn way.

  • Tonight It's High Holy Day for the Gays

    Tonight it’s high holy day for the Gays – The Oscars! or maybe that’s the Tonys… Well “the gays” get excited about both probably. All the glitz and glamour and snobbery – sounds gay, looks gay, probably all gay. Last year I feigned interest in the Oscars for the fiance – glad that never has to happen again. I have watched other times when nothing exciting has been on TV, I watched the year that the Return of the King won and was happy about that.

    As a disclaimer, I guess I’m gay. Not in the “can’t wait to see how Betty Sue looks on the red carpet tonight” or “oooh, she’s such a queen” or “she’s had work done, horrible work” kind of gay, nope, not those kind. I just happen to like kissing a handsome hairy guy or sucking on a cock now and again among some other nasty exciting things when i get the chance.

    Most of the gay people I know are excited about the show tonight, at breakfast I heard and over heard several conversations about tonight and how much fun it’ll be to watch – I even, believe it or not, heard some people who were excited to know Billy Crystal would be the host. I just don’t find it that interesting myself, hours of pre-show with outfits and sound bytes from folks we pay millions of dollars to each year for a relatively small number of worthy movies.

    Me, I’ll probably play World of Warcraft or watch Boardwalk Empire instead. Either sound more exciting to me.

  • Stupid Valentines Day – All Men Lie

    I’ve fallen for that scam they call “love” before on an occasion or two – I hope I’ve learned my lesson and never fall again. Certainly initially the feelings can be overwhelmingly wonderful and everything can appear to be as if the stars have aligned. When that happens you’ve forgotten one very important thing:

    All Men Lie

    That’s the basic rule you need to hold onto to avoid falling into this trap of a boyfriend, partner, husband, spouse… They’re only after one thing: porn – oh, no… well ok two things…. they want to get their rocks off and they want to watch porn. The rest is a lie. All men lie. If you allow them to trick you into thinking there is something, anything more than them having their orgasm then they have effectively tricked you and you will eventually be hurt, usually badly. All Men Lie.

    Having that special someone in my life used to be a primary goal, but I’ve learned from those experiences. Yes, I’ve been duped and duped again. Yes, I fell into his eyes and believed the lies, took chances and thought “this time I wont get burnt” but I did, once again.

    All Men Lie

    You’re really better off using them for what they’re good for: sex, fixing the toilet, teaching you how to use the remote control or what have you. Don’t let them get emotionally attached, don’t let them leave a toothbrush at your house for overnights – just get what you’re after and send them packing. If they performed well, consider bringing them back for a repeat performance, but not immediately. If you bring them back to soon they’ll work their snake charm on you and before you know it they’ll have your heart in a vulnerable position once again. It’s not worth it. Don’t forget the rule:

    All Men Lie – it’ll serve you when they’re trying to worm their way in.

    I hope that today you’ve not already found yourself entrenched into some fantasy world that he’s spun, leading you to believe that he cares, or that he’ll always be there. I hope you see through the games, gifts and gratitude he expresses. Those just serve his purpose, those just sink you further into his trap of “love” that chemical reaction that you can resist, that you can defeat, that you don’t have to get burned by.

    After your done having fun with his stick, send him packing and bring on the next fool to use and abuse. Don’t get clingy, don’t get attached and never fall for their ever ready, ever present, ever self serving lies.

    All Men Lie

  • Cold – The Ultimate Demotivator

    It’s 25 degrees outside. That’s cold. Hell I think 35 is cold and on a bad day 40 is cold. Have I ever mentioned to you how much I hate winter?

    The goal last night was for me to wake up early and head to the gym for spinning class at 6:30. I even went to bed early to try to accomplish this, but this morning as I lay in bed stroking the pussy I really didn’t want to get up. But get up I did, turning on the computer, straightening up the bed and a quick tinkle in the bathroom… then I noticed the outside temperature and made a decision. I am NOT going out in that for the gym… this is also why bootcamp wouldn’t work for me.

    Not only would I have to go out on the way to the gym, you know I’d have to come back right… and it’s just too cold.

    I’ve always hated the cold and this season, never even enjoyed it when I was a kid. Sledding? REALLY WTH for, freeze going down a hill so you can climb back up it, insanity I say. Ice skating? WTH sharp blades on frozen water – yeah, that sounds appealing. Skiing? you people are crazy.

    Saturday night it was pretty cold out, I really didn’t want to go out but had told a few folks I’d meet them at a dance so I felt obligated. Now if it had been snowing when I was set to leave I would have forgotten about meeting anyone out there. Snow is an automatic cancellation. We have a date and flakes start to drift down – I’ll be canceling.

    I really want to live somewhere that it doesn’t snow and you don’t need a jacket more than a couple months out of the year. Is that so much to ask really? “You’ll miss the seasons!” they say. “They” are stupid. I’m going to miss the different allergens that come and go depending on the weather? I’m going to miss leaves changing from green to gold – that’s why I have the internet, I can see pictures (ok, the real reason I have the internet is for porn, like the rest of the male population).

    yes, yes, I’m whining today…. Is it spring yet?

     

  • Share in a General Way

    I’m a fan of round-ups, it’s a good place to hear experience, strength and hope from all over the world – usually.

    About 15 years ago I went up to the Upper Peninsula (the UP) of Michigan for a round-up with a bunch of folks from my Eau Claire AA meetings. I was looking forward to it, I think a few people that I’d heard before were to be speaking. The first night an American Indian woman was the speaker, I’d never heard her story before. Around the 40 minute mark of her talk I’d heard all about the oppression of the American Indian and how that affected her growing up into adulthood – but I don’t think she’d even taken a drink at that point. I walked out – I was followed by several other people who were as frustrated as I was.

    I’m sorry but I came to hear experience, strength and hope about alcoholism and how to recover from a seemingly hopeless state of mind and body. That’s why I’m here. Did I come to the wrong meeting?

    A few years back I went to a “gay” round-up in Miami, I had scoffed at it for years without ever going until I thought hard about “contempt prior to investigation” so that year I went. The majority of the speakers at the round-up, and especially the Saturday night speaker, talked about being gay, coming out and their relationships more by far than they talked about alcoholism, recovery from alcoholism or struggling to stay sober. Except when the Saturday night speaker mentioned her sobriety date I don’t think she talked about the program at all. I remained hopeful and tried to be respectful to this woman with over 40 years in the program, but I left that night convinced I was right about “gay round-ups” all along. Perhaps the organizers tell the speakers of this round-up to really stress life as a gay.

    I’m not here to recover from being gay, I’m not here to talk about that or learn how difficult it was for you to come out of the closet to your parents, your friends, your co-workers. I’m here because I have a desire to stop drinking and live life being of maximum service to God (or what have you) and my fellows.

    I was asked to share my experience strength and hope at the end of 2011 in Minneapolis. I never practice sharing my experience or know what’s going to come out of my mouth when I do share, I just open my mouth and try to keep it honest (I remember once at the Eau Claire Pacific Group at the podium where I lied and immediately stopped myself and called myself out on it, I was pretty new). During my talk I mentioned that when one of my best friends moved out to the East Coast she said “You have to come with, Eau Claire is no place for a gay boy to be” and later on I talked briefly about getting engaged and dumped in the last year and wanting to drink over that. I didn’t dwell on being gay, I didn’t focus my talk on coming out of the closet or about how wonderful it is having gay sex.

    I shared in a general way, what it was like, what happened and what it’s like now as it relates to alcoholism, recovery from alcoholism and the joys and tribulations that I’ve experienced in sobriety. I think that’s what we’re supposed to talk about.

    When I met with my sponsor last week I told him that one of the members, a friend, of the group I spoke at expressed gratitude that I spoke in a general way about being gay. She said that typically when gay people come to speak they spend most of there time talking about the coming out process and how difficult it is being gay. She appreciated that someone could come and mention it without making it the focus of their talk. I thought that was interesting. My sponsor said that he thinks as society comes to accept the gay lifestyle more and more the coming out process will be less of traumatic experience to our young people and he thinks its already started to change to reflect that in meetings. I hope so.