Walking Through Pudding
Know what I mean? Not that I’m dragging my feet, though that’s true, too. I’ve had a tension headache for about 24 hours. Tylenol doesn’t touch it. I’m too poor to buy Aleve. I’m tired, in spite of the ‘wakefulness agent’ Provigil. And I have a new outbreak of toe herpes in spite of the acyclovir I’m taking. Thankfully that’s not painful. Just a heavy drag to get through. Eventually I’ll come out the other side (and change my pants).
I was thinking last night though that it’s been an awfully long time since I’ve had any kind of craving for crystal methamphetamine. The book says that when I’m really better I’ll “recoil from it as from a hot flame.” I’m afraid that if I were faced with the opportunity to use at the moment I’d have to work really hard at tearing myself from it, rather than recoil.
There is a woman who attends many of the same meetings that I do who just celebrated 18 years of continuous sobriety. From all accounts she was pretty wild in her using days. She’s pretty wild now. But she said that for the first six years the thing that kept her sober was that she wanted to stay sober more than she wanted anything else in the world. It wasn’t until then shat she had the “deep and effective spiritual experiences which have revolutionized [her] whole attitude toward life, toward [her] fellows and toward God’s universe.”
I’m afraid that my intellect may stand in the way of having that sort of thing. I trust few people. Learning to trust my Creator is a challenge. I’m not unwilling to keep trying. Perhaps it’s that my expectations are high. In “Bill’s Story” the change is overnight; the ‘burning bush’ variety of experience. I usually joke that if you have a burning bush your experience has either involved nudity and a campfire or crabs. That’s probably indicative of some sort of prejudice, don’t you think? I’m sure my upbringing has played a roll in that. I was raised in a church that claims to be the only path to God, the only true church on Earth. At about 14 I rejected that. I couldn’t see how a loving Creator would reject so many hundreds of millions of Buddhists, Muslims and Jews, not to mention Catholics and Protestants. And the fact of the matter is that the leaders of my congregation had failed me and my siblings entirely; had failed us when it was important not to. I assumed that meant that God had failed us, too. I’ve gained some understanding of what happened but I haven’t entirely let go of the resentment.
The other thing that stands in my way is my fear of what I don’t understand. And I don’t understand God. A silly paradox, to see my Creator at work in the lives of others and in my own life and yet to not trust that it will be there when I need it, especially if I should need it to stand in the way of a relapse. I’ve been trying to do this under force of will.
There are things I could be doing to overcome my prejudice. I could be taking the ’suggestion’ (requirement) that I ‘hit my knees’ and pray each day to be “divorced from self-pity, dishonest or self-seeking motives” and to end the day by “ask[ing] God’s forgiveness and inquire[ing] what corrective measures should be taken.” I don’t actually do that with any sort of consistency.
I’m told that it is in the seeking that one finds. “Knock and it shall open unto you.” I’m here, text messaging my friend who is on her way to a funeral where she’ll be surrounded by a completely toxic family, reminding her to remember that her Creator is with her and yet doubting that He’s with me. Silly.
They also ’suggest’ (demand) that in situations like mine, that one pray for the willingness to have faith. I guess I’m jealous of those who have the ‘burning bush’ kind of experience. It’s not that I haven’t had experiences. I have. Just not the kind that always lift me out of the pudding.
Perhaps I should just enjoy it and have myself a snack.