Book of Jamez

55 y/o malcontent, something of a writer

Tag: Love

  • Normally Do Not Mix

    I was thinking today of my friends (especially Suzanne, it’s her birthday) in the world and how incredibly varied they all are. Not all of my friends are in 12 step programs but I think being in a 12 step program has made it easier for me to become friends with a wide array of people. Going to a meeting you will likely run into a gamut of characters – bikers, politicians, house wives, students and divas to name a few. We all manage to get along as we have a common solution, a common peril that unites us. We stand together or we fall alone – it’s been proven to be true – this 80-year-old program changed more than just the lives of Alcoholics, it’s changed the world. (the book made the Library of Congress’s top 100 books that changed America LINK)

    12 step programs not only make members better… they somehow transform those around them into people members can tolerate. 🙂 I kid, I kid… If you work the 12 steps the result is intended to be “an entire psychic change”, some say a “spiritual awakening”. That entire psychic change is a pretty marvelous thing in my experience – it made me a different person, some argue that drugs and alcohol hid the real person, but I’m not sure. What it did do was fill my life with some really wonderful people who I don’t just tolerate… i need them, they fill holes in my brain and turn calamity to calm.

    “WE are average Americans. All sections of this country and many of its occupations are represented as well as many political, economic, social, and religious backgrounds. We are people who normally would not mix. But there exists among us a fellowship, a friendliness, and an understanding which is indescribably wonderful.” Alcoholics Anonymous, Fourth Edition, Chapter 2, There is a Solution, p 17

    (more…)

  • Flag Fury

    It’s no more the rebel flag; than Columbine was about trench coats or rape is about clothes girls are wearing.

    Its about living in a culture where its ok to hate others based on their religion, gender, sexual orientation, race disability or a million little things that people hate other people for. People hate entire other religions and races because they were taught to. People somehow learn in “religions of peace” that it’s ok to discriminate, they condemn other lives because they are different than theirs. Our entire culture creates schisms between things that are one way and things that are another way – it’s painful, it’s hurting us and we’re letting it.

    “Racism isn’t born, folks, it’s taught. I have a two-year-old son. You know what he hates? Naps! End of list.” Dennis Leary

    A friend posted an article on Facebook the other day “15 Things Alcoholics Anonymous Can Teach the Church” and I liked it, but I’m rather anti-religion and pro-AA (even though some courts have ruled AA a religion and I can see that). Number 10 in that article is “Don’t shoot your wounded” and it says “Judgment or the perception of judgment is often felt in churches”.  That’s often what I think of when I think of churches – hate, fear, demonizing.

    In some respects this can be considered a true statement. The KKK considers itself a “Christian” organization and they think they teach “Christian” principles. Al Queda, Isis, The Westboro Baptist Church all think they teach their idea of “God”‘s principles too.

    We teach girls how to keep themselves from being raped when we should be teaching boys how to not be rapists. We have politicians that blame and entire religion for terrorists acts that happen domestically and abroad. We focus on the color and stars of a flag instead of the tragedy and how we can do a better job (NRA has great spin department I think).

    I know many old people that hold prejudices that they’d held for decades. It was taught to them when they were so young and now it’s the only truth they can see. This worries me… but then I remember what I’ve seen in Alcoholics Anonymous – where we teach love – where human beings who once were the most desolate of society rose up and became contributing members of society and sought only to help another man.

    Today we should mourn. We should reflect back on the lives lost and the good they had done. We should look to the future and see what we can build now, learning from this. We need to teach a message of tolerance, love, hope to the country.. the whole world.

    Start with me. Start by being open minded to things different that I am. Start by reaching out and sharing my experiences with others, letting them know I’m not so different than they are and we have a common bond.  Start by being a better human being… start by loving, giving, helping.

    But don’t focus on a flag – sure it’s in poor taste, but it didn’t pull a trigger, it didn’t share hate… it just is. It has power when you give it power…

  • For Free & For Fun

    The circle and triangle of the program represent Recovery, Unity and Service together as a whole. They tell me it’s an ancient spiritual symbol that existed long before any 12 step program was ever dreamt about and means “wholeness”. I was taught to believe I need all three to recover from alcoholism – that I needed to find the program of action outlined in the 164 pages, that I had to find the fellowship amongst the members and that I needed to give away what was so freely given to me in service.

    When I first got sober I took many things for granted. I didn’t think about how much the rent was for the meeting space, or the books and coffee – I thought about the money in the basket quite a few times and wondered if anyone would notice if I took some. I was rather self-centered at the time and mostly just focused on what I could get out of life for me and what you could do for me.

    I talk quite a lot about shaking hands. I do because it was so important in changing who I was into who I am. When my sponsor told me to shake everyone’s hand before and after the meeting I hated him, I didn’t want to do that – I hate people. But I had agreed to go to “any lengths to recover from alcoholism” and I meant it. So every meeting I would stick out my hand and offer my name to so very many people (this was relatively small town WI, nothing like the meetings I attend in the big cities).

    Some of those people wanted to talk to me – ugh – and asked me how long I’d been sober. I’d rattle off “I’m 37 days sober today” and then they’d say “but who’s counting?” and I’d be all confused, like why ask… I don’t want to let anyone know these things – I hate people.

    After a few meetings people started to remember my name, and I felt obligated to try to remember theirs. I knew Mark M – he always had a suit on and a smile, he claimed he was sober for over 10 years but I didn’t really believe him. Nancy was new too and didn’t make me feel uncomfortable, she always came in with her friend and they always sat together. Randy and Mike, Krista and Suzanne… I started to learn a little bit more about the people I didn’t want anything to do with. And I discovered, much to my dismay, that I didn’t hate ALL people… just most of them.

    Shaking hands led me to a job in the meetings of setting up. Then I got to tear down – I didn’t really like this one as I wanted to rush out and start smoking right away.  My home group started to teach me about service work at our monthly group conscience – and I’d always hear them share at meetings about the tradition and experience working with newcomers. They shared with me and invited me to events where the business of recovery happens – where I met many more characters and learned the ins and outs of the District, the Area and the General Service Office.

    I like to think my home group and my sponsor helped to make me “whole”. Sure the step work was important too, very important to discovering who I had been and how I could become the man I am today. But the service work was just as important.

    Bill W talks about all the different drunks he tried to help and not a one of them remained sober. It was Lois who pointed out that he was staying sober by helping them. He remembered that when he was very desperate in Akron and found Bob. And together, they in turn tried to help many others – only a handful stayed sober at first. It must have been very disheartening.

    I’ve worked with many a guy sharing what was so freely shared with me. Some very new, some around longer than I have been. I’ve made my share of mistakes with those guy and usually learn from those mistakes and grow. And while it can be devastating to lose one of them or to not reach them at all it helps me to stay sober and that really makes all the difference to me. Its really difficult to look at them struggling and not be able to reach them – to see their pain and hopelessness and know that if they just took that first step, if they were just willing to believe they’d be on a different path they could have never imagined… but they have to make their own journey there.I have expected gratitude from the new man I was trying to help. I’ve expected them to have a program just like mine… well, maybe I was really hurt when it wasn’t and flabbergasted ;-). Bill cautions us in our book about doing too much for the new man. We have to show them the way – not drag them in kicking and screaming, nor carry them in on a pampered throne. Many people come in ordered by the courts, the wife or circumstances… not all of those stay but I did, and I know many others who have as well.

    In our book it says “we have ceased fighting anything or anyone”. This is hard for me many days in and out of the rooms. Sometimes it’s very easy to get pulled into the drama. Sometimes, sadly, I might still start the drama – but I’m trying to be more aware of it and change.

    “Your job now is to be at the place where you may be of maximum helpfulness to others, so never hesitate to go anywhere if you can be helpful.”

    I can be of more help to people and organizations I serve, if I show up and serve – without agendas, selfishness and anger. If I just show up and do what I was taught to do early on – I’m going to show up and smile, shake hands and be of service to the people about me to the best of my ability.

    I don’t serve for attention, accolades or accomplishments to add to my resume – I do it because I was told (and believe) that the constant thought of others must follow me throughout the day and when it does I have a better day. I have remarkable days in succession when I’m doing what I ought.

    This post was a bunch of different things that were running around in my head. They’re all in regards to things that are currently going on and they all tie together, even if it might not seem like it to the casual reader.

    “Selfishness – self-centeredness! That, we think, is the root of our troubles” this is true for me still today and everyday. I think it’s true for a lot of people even those not in the rooms.

    How can I serve? How can I help? that’s how I get out of self, it’s been working for a good long time now and I can’t recommend it enough.

  • My Sponsor Wont Shake My Hand

    When i first started going to meetings the very first direction I was given by my sponsor was “Shake everyone’s hand before and after the meeting” I wanted to stop going right then, I didn’t want anything to do with these people – I just wanted to learn how to drink like normal people. (surprise, surprise… they don’t teach that – boy was I disappointed) I had made a conscious decision NOT to go to NA because there was too much hugging (I was like 3 days sober when I went once)

    I was willing to do that… willing to do anything to stop drinking and have a better life… so I started shaking hands at every meeting I went to. Soon that habit crossed over into the rest of my life and I shake hands all the time with all sorts of folks… it’s a great way for me to get out of myself and think about other people for a minute or two.

    When I moved to the Phoenix area I continued my handshaking routines but soon found all sorts of people that just rush in and start hugging you… (I guess it was somewhat true of DC and WI too – but here there seems to be more of it).  Some of these folks I hardly know at all.. I almost don’t feel like the meeting was a success if I can’t shake hands with everyone – I’ve had to settle for fist bumps with a few folks too – see I’m open minded. I will hug folks if they shake my hand also… seems only fair.

    My current sponsor won’t shake my hand… I reach out my hand and he smiles his big loving smile and hugs me. If I manage to get him to shake my hand and he realizes it’s me (I try to shake his hand when he’s distracted) he’ll pull me in for a hug and tell me he loves me. He’s a great guy and I love him. So the other week I said “I’m going to write a blog post titled “My Sponsor Wont Shake My Hand” and he kind of frowned at me in that loving way he does… but he stuck out his hand and shook my hand, I think he still managed to get a hug anyway.

    Then I managed to fall off my bicycle and sprain my right hand and had to cut back on the hand shaking. I had it wrapped up in an ace bandage and people don’t pay attention and just squeeze as tight as normal. So I kind of had to quit shaking hands, it’s been difficult…. trying… As a result I’ve had to be open minded and let some people hug me that I otherwise wouldn’t have.. life is hard.

    Tonight at the meeting someone else greeted people as I was handing out tickets (we do a raffle for people to share). This greeter hugged everyone it was awful… he’d track em down across the room and just hug em up and love em… I hope he didn’t set a precedent.

    yes, this was a post about anti-hugging – it needs to be stopped

  • Neglect

    I was at a meeting a few months back and a guy shared about how he tended to lose girlfriends when he wouldn’t pay attention to them, didn’t show up, only showed up when he needed something or neglected them. They’d likely not be very happy with him and he’d have to work hard to keep the relationship or lose them. He then related that to his higher power – that’s how he sometimes treated his higher power, just there for his own purposes when he wasn’t busy or if he was in a jam. He asked us,  was that a way to continue to have a healthy relationship with that higher power that you need to stay sober.

    I honestly thought it was a pretty decent analogy – but all through his share I was applying it to the home group (not the higher power). I think a home group is the same way – if we treat it with respect, attend regularly and love it (I use Chuck C’s definition of love “service – giving of your self completely expecting nothing in return”) it’s going to continue to grow and prosper. If we fail to attend regularly or only show up for the spot check sobriety stop when we’re particularly resentful it’s going to lose its specialness.

    If I don’t water the plants each week at the office they’ll die, maybe not today or tomorrow but that lack of sustenance is what it relies on. We have to treat the things we need in life – in life – the same way. Is this thing – this job, this meeting, this person – something I want to continue? Is it something that I would like to stay around not just for the benefit of me, but for the benefit of others? If so, what am I wiling to do to help that continue – to help it grow, change and bear fruit?

    Sometimes I get all full of self-righteousness and don’t want to do all the work that’s required for these things. I’d like to sit back and let other people shake hands, clean up, set up the meeting – I’m pretty grumpy when that kind of thought process is going on, but I do still get that way. I can be silent, frown a lot and rub my “no questions” tattoo… but it’s really me that’s screwed up. I’m letting imaginary feelings and misinterpreted words screw with my serenity.  I can fix it, sometimes I fix it in a snarky way… but usually i fix it by giving of myself, expecting nothing in return. That whole being selfless thing is what helps make me a good person again – when I’m full of self I’m not really me at all… (don’t make me angry… you wouldn’t like me when I’m angry)

    Tonight a bunch of old friends and I were texting and something we loved is changing or dying. There was some finger-pointing and some blame placing… It saddens me.  I’m well removed from the area now, so it’s probably easy for me to sit back and not be emotionally invested, I haven’t been a part of this thing since I moved really. This thing we created though… it changed me (and I fought it tooth and nail), it gave me new friends (and I don’t like people), it gave me new experiences…. I’m pretty happy that happened. I wish I could save it but I don’t live there anymore and as much as I wish it otherwise – I’m not a superhero.

    My friends who are there – thank you for being my friends, I’m so glad we created this thing and grew with it. If you save it or let it go – maybe it’s not a choice for us…. either way, it was an experience.

  • The Difference

    I was at a small birthday celebration for a friend Friday night when I overheard one of the attendees talking about being a foster parent. I listened as best I could over the din of the bar. You should have heard this woman talk about some of the kids she had come through her house – she talked with joy, pride and sadness, sadness that some of them were now back in danger again. She’s also a teacher, elementary school I think, and that in itself should be considered a superhero, the foster parent doubly so.

    I’m a product of Foster Care, I wasn’t really in any danger, but I was one of those kids that lacked proper supervision and was amok in most parts of my life. When I entered my foster home for the first time I tried to talk myself into running the first day – nothing bad had happened, but these people just didn’t understand me and couldn’t possibly keep up with me. My Ma had plenty of foster kids before me and was more than a match for my teenaged ideas of right and wrong.

    My Ma and Pa held me responsible for my own actions – I had to wake up to my own alarm clock for school each day, I had chores, I received allowance, I had dinner every night at the table with the family (seemed stupid at the time, but it was something I came to look forward to each day and long for today). In my foster home I didn’t fear anyone coming home drunk in a rage to beat up anyone else, I didn’t worry about having food for dinner, I found peace. I wrote a poem about it a few years ago you can find here: (Foster Home) and I’ve pasted it here too

    brown house now blue

    gray hair then and now too

    Ma in rocker knitting

    Pa in recliner

    fear crawls up my spine

    my bags packed, all that is mine

    social worker pressures shoulder

    keeps me from running

    dinner together, conversation and laughter

    alien world, foreign notions – food a plenty

    tears delay that first night,

    though hard fought, buried deep

    rules, responsibility, chores

    wake up myself for school

    wash dishes, mow lawns

    allowance? what’s that?

    foster brother and i

    share smokes and stories

    on the front patio

    now enclosed, then exposed

    three years teach me, show me love me

    five years gone, back i come to make right

    show them i’ve found the light

    love unconditional, no exceptions

    dc bound, to find my way

    just call anytime

    no questions asked

    you can always come home

    breast cancer scare,

    tears unhindered

    stream down my cheeks

    fear strikes deep and hard

    twenty years later, college bound

    ma and pa, rhonda and greg

    come to see the sites,

    nope!

    to see me off, wish me well, show me love

    the family i didn’t choose

    forced upon me by action of youth

    became the one that mattered most

    showed me the truth of love itself

    When my Pa died a few years ago it … it still brings tears to my eyes… I decided to change my name to honor him. That’s the kind of impact they had on me – I owe my life to them (to AA too, yes) and have had so much opportunity as a result of everything they gave me.

    I’m not a foster parent, I’m not very patient with kids, but I urge you to be. I urge you to be the person that makes a difference in the life of a child, show them that not all parents are irresponsible, hurtful and mean. Show them a path that leads to a better life… and make sure you hug them, kids need hugs.

    Here are some links about foster care, if you’re interested give them a read and help make a difference.

    http://www.adoptuskids.org/for-families/how-to-foster

    http://www.fosterparents.com

    http://nfpaonline.org

    http://www.kidspeace.org/Foster.aspx

  • Coming Out and Coming to Terms with Me

    A friends brother came out recently after many years of being closeted and she wanted to talk to me about how that kind of thing can happen… so I wrote this long email to her and decided I should put it here too.

    Long before I had any notion of what it meant to be gay I found men attractive (especially bearded, hairy men). When I’d play with my superhero figures it was usually Batman and Superman that were kissing – Wonder Woman was nowhere to be found, it could be that I didn’t have Wonder Woman… who would buy a boy Wonder Woman in the 70s? We were actually pretty poor and I don’t recall having Superman and Batman dolls so that was all in my imagination… so I could have thought of Wonder Woman, but she didn’t come up.

    It didn’t take long to see how homosexuals were portrayed on TV and in movies and even though I couldn’t identify as one yet, I was suddenly much more aware of how limp my wrist was or how I walked, talked and dressed, I’d seen the way other people (my parents, TV stars, school kids) talked about gay people and I didn’t want them to talk about me like that so I was very careful at a very young age to not show too many signs… lol, seems silly to me now. Elementary school and high school gym class and shower rooms were very uncomfortable and i would get out of there as soon as possible, not looking at anything because I knew I might get excited and then I’d be discovered, the worst were the gym teachers and coaches – with their hairy arms and full bodies… just don’t look, just don’t look.

    When I was around 12 or 13 an adult friend of my mother seduced me and took me – and several other kids in our small town – as his own for his pleasure. That was more secretive than being gay and exciting too. Finally the things I couldn’t really put into words or thoughts in my head were happening and it felt good but it felt bad too and it was a struggle to get through with that. It didn’t help that at that point I didn’t have any positive male figures in my life, all my mothers husbands beat her and were drunk no one I wanted to be like. This was the first time I had been loved, that I could tell, by another man.

    When the adult that molested me was caught they sent us to therapy, in the 80s at the beginning of the AIDS crisis, what I heard the therapist say was “if you enjoyed any of that than your a sick pervert too and will catch AIDS and die…” again, that’s what I heard what he actually said might have been something very different. But it did instill in me again this feeling that I WAS WRONG, not that there was something wrong with me but I was completely wrong.

    When I was seeing a therapist while in my foster home I was honest with him about my feeling towards other guys and explained I could only get off thinking about guys… he suggested that that was a learned behavior and could be changed… if I wanted to I could imagine cars when I was beating off and after enough time that would change, I was desperate to be normal and not “get AIDS and die” … sadly, thinking about girls, or cars… didn’t seem to do it for me… and wasn’t satisfying, so I gave up.

    Outside of the molestation, I didn’t have sex with anyone until I was 19 or 20. My friends convinced me I had to have sex with a girl so that happened.. but I honestly had to think about a man to perform. It wasn’t enjoyable, it didn’t feel right and it wasn’t something I ever wanted to do again… but my friends were excited for me, I felt they accepted me a little bit more now that I was normal…

    During my first drug and alcohol treatment I discussed my gay thoughts and feelings about it with my counselor… who suggested I might be gay… which I didn’t like very much. How dare he say such a thing! Even though I’d been fighting that very thought for years in my own head. But the thought stuck there and I started to give in – I was a doomed homosexual and the world would hate me.. and the “God” of my understanding was going to condemn me to hell because of something I didn’t have a say about.

    After that treatment, when I was drinking again, a friend offered to let me see if I was really gay by having sex with him… he wasn’t “gay” of course, just doing a favor for a friend… It wasn’t really an enjoyable experience, but he wasn’t exactly my type either. So I didn’t repeat that experiment and it didn’t answer any of my questions about myself really.

    After my second (and hopefully last) treatment visit I decided I was gay, but I didn’t have to act on it… so at night I’d pleasure myself and then ask “God” as I understood him, to forgive me for being a monster… every night, again and again…

    At that time, the mid 90s, the internet was pretty new so there weren’t the massive amounts of gay sites there are now… so I did this Phone Bank thing where you could listen to guys on voicemail like things and then hook up… the closest city was Minneapolis/St Paul and I found a guy that I was interested in base mostly on his voice – he didn’t sound “gay”. I told my two best friends I was going to my Ma and I told my Ma that I was going to a conference – this is me in early AA lying… even though I know I have to be honest about everything to stay sober… and I went up to the Twin Cities and had the best time ever with this guy who was very patient, gentle, understanding and virile… OMG VIRILE, insatiable event. Then I was being destroyed by the lie… I felt so horrible for the lie but felt so right about what I had done… it was so conflicting, so I told my two best friends that I lied to them and told them the truth about me, which they knew anyway, but it felt better to be honest.

    one of those two best friends was moving to Washington DC and told me that I had to come with “Eau Claire WI is no place for a gay boy to be” and I jumped at the chance, but mostly to get out of WI, it wasn’t about exploring being gay at all. When I told my co-workers I had to tell them something (that I was leaving) one of them said “You’d better not be coming out, you fucking faggots all need to die”

    When I did get to DC it was amazing: guys were holding hands with one another ON THE STREET, for that matter, there were other races and some of them were holding hands with other races and some of them were gay or lesbian… I didn’t know what the hell was going on… it was so cool but I didn’t think you could do those things…

    Shortly after moving there I was walking down 17th street, minding my own business and a car of a bunch of kids drove by and tossed a half-full beer can at me yelling “fucking faggot”… so there was that, this hatred of me for being me was everywhere not just in my head or in small town America, even in our nations capital.

    I learned more and more about gay people and our history the longer I was in DC. I became more and more comfortable with myself the more I let myself… I came out to my entire family (loved ones) via an email on National Coming Out Day in 1998… and later that year I came out to my mother by wearing a t-shirt that said something clever like “my boyfriends mother doesn’t know I’m gay” or some such… she was not amused 😉

    I’m a typical gay man, because I happen to like having sex with other gay men… but in other senses I’m not a typical gay man. I don’t care about the Tony Awards or Liza Minnelli, I’m not a fan of drag shows or say “fabulous” a lot… but not all straight people like NASCAR or Fox News or find Rhiana attractive… I’m an individual who finally came to terms with being who I am after much trial and error. Are there still times I feel hated by others? sure. Are there times I hate myself? not so much anymore. I think I’m fortunate to live in these times when people start to realize that there are more than one kind of love, more than one kind of relationship in the world… To come out today with all the wonderful things happening for gay people … well it would have been a great time to get to know myself… but I wouldn’t trade the struggles I had for an easier softer way, those struggles shaped me into the man I have become and I like him… I wouldn’t date him, not my type at all 😀

  • For Bill

    Meet for coffee?

    Hurricane Alex

    From “I have to mow my lawn”

    To “Could I have a kiss?”

    You popped the question

    I said yes

    From the Midwest

    To Broadway

    Flights back and forth

    Holding hands

    Kissing and loving

    So many introductions

    Planning trips

    Across the country

    Down the aisle

    Wedding Bell Blues

    Flowers and cards

    Love from a far

    Soon to be husband

    And husband

    Nothings ever made me happier

    No ones ever sent me

    Head over heels

    The way you do

    I love you Bill

    I always will

  • foster home

    brown house now blue
    gray hair then and now too
    Ma in rocker knitting
    Pa in recliner

    fear crawls up my spine
    my bags packed, all that is mine
    social worker pressures shoulder
    keeps me from running

    dinner together, conversation and laughter
    alien world, foreign notions – food a plenty
    tears delay that first night,
    though hard fought, buried deep

    rules, responsibility, chores
    wake up myself for school
    wash dishes, mow lawns
    allowance? what’s that?

    foster brother and i
    share smokes and stories
    on the front patio
    now enclosed, then exposed

    three years teach me, show me love me
    five years gone, back i come to make right
    show them i’ve found the light
    love unconditional, no exceptions

    dc bound, to find my way
    just call anytime
    no questions asked
    you can always come home

    breast cancer scare,
    tears unhindered
    stream down my cheeks
    fear strikes deep and hard

    twenty years later, college bound
    ma and pa, rhonda and greg
    come to see the sites,
    nope!
    to see me off, wish me well, show me love

    the family i didn’t choose
    forced upon me by action of youth
    became the one that mattered most
    showed me the truth of love itself

  • Dark and Handsome

    As I turn to leave I see the desperation in his eyes begging me to come back to bed for one last kiss. I would love to lay next to him, running my hands over his body, my fingers through his dark hair.

    He never wants me to leave, it’s always the same: his needs his wants come first in his mind. Nothing but my presence next to him will do, he loves no other.

    Finally I succumb to his desires and bend down for one last kiss.

    “Meowr” Q says, hoping, just hoping I don’t walk out the door to school.